


Fickle Game

by Bright_Moon_Beam



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Tragedy, Attempted Murder, Coming of Age, Corruption, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotions, Fighting, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Loss of Parent(s), Manipulation, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Mutant Society, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Suicide Attempt, Superpowers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Moon_Beam/pseuds/Bright_Moon_Beam
Summary: The world was burning. All around them were the flames of corruption and dissent. They learned to survive before they learned to live even though they never asked to be born they way they were.ORIn a society where children our born with superpowers mutiny erupts. No one is safe. No one is secure. Seven boys come together through it all their stories weaving together to bring them where they were all meant to be.GOT7 Version





	1. Copasetic

Life was copasetic. That’s what he was told.

No deviation. No variation. Perfect Order

It was almost clinical: His life. There were no emotion involved. It wasn’t about living life, it was about making their existence mean something more.

All of it had a plan. All of it had a set purpose and that was the way it was supposed to be. With change came danger. With change came dissent and chaos and the destruction of society. 

That’s why his birth in itself was a mistake. He was different. He was born unlike most of the rest of humanity and that made him a threat.

It was a miracle his parents could afford the test when he was first born to determine if he had the gene that caused the mutation. Of course when it was determined he did possess the gene the only thing they could do was send him here. This was the safe place. The place where everything could be controlled. 

He couldn’t hurt the innocent here. He couldn’t be a burden to society behind the white walls and the fluorescent lights. While here, it was impossible to slip through the cracks and rip out the foundation of life as they knew it root by root with his unnatural and evil capabilities.

Here he could learn to make the best of it. Here, he could be thankful his parents has sent him away the day after he was born to be put in a nursery of hundreds of other babies plagued by the same incurable sin. He was raised by doctors in lab coats and surgical masks and put in school where both the boys and girls wore the same uniform and sported the same haircut.

It was all in one big building. The schools, the dorm, the cafeteria, and the training center. He grew up under watchful eye, never dreaming of leaving the safety of these walls where he was contained. His despicable nature had to be harnessed. If he could control it utterly and completely, then he could take the only course of redemption available to him.

His abilities were useful in the extermination of the superhumans that didn’t cooperate. The ones who were blind to the consequence of their existence. They were no better than animals with bad intentions woven into their DNA. If they couldn’t conform. If they were bold enough to encourage things outrageous as equality, the only way to protect everyone was to end them.

He had been told that over and over. From the day he was born, he had been raised on those ideals, and he never questioned them because he didn’t know anything else. He listened to the doctors and his trainer and the voice that creeped through the walls as he slept and whispered in his ear telling him he was disgusting, he had to repay his debt. 

The only way he could pay for this was through blood.

So blood he spilled.

While his exact capabilities could not be determined by the initial test, several more after his birth determined that his mutation produced the ability to have uncanny precision. With any weapon he possessed, he could hit any target he set his eyes on and he was able to walk without making a noise.

He was genetically engineered to be an assassin and the best part was that he didn’t physically show any traits of his ability. He was perfect for the cause, and as soon as he was old enough, he was permitted to grow out his hair and to wear civilian clothes and leave the compound on missions planned by the director. 

He always had an itinerary. His attacks were always carefully planned and always different. They didn’t want to be predictable. They didn’t want to make this seem as if it was the work of one person. They should all appear as if they were separate crimes that happened because of various reasons.

The very organization was at stake if he failed to be inconspicuous, but he couldn’t fail at the very thing he was born to do. 

He was seven when he had started training. 

He remembered his first day exactly. He tended to forget things often. When your days were exactly the same, it was hard to distinguish what part of the routine had occurred on what day.

He had been excited for training too. He was the first in his age bracket to start and he felt no qualms about leaving them. It wasn’t as if he felt attachment to them. The boys and girls who started training were kept separately from the other children somewhere in the compound and were never seen again. There was no such thing as attachment, and the only reason he had for possibly wanting to see them again was to witness the jealousy in his eyes for achieving what they all had been striving for first.

He had been moved to a new room the night before. Instead of two rows of ten bunk beds which he had been used to, he was lead to a much smaller room with two single beds. His roomate had been sat in bed watching like he had been expecting him, and without another word, the man who had brought him left, shutting the door behind him, the lock clicking a moment later.

All the doors were locked from the outside. That’s just the way it was.

He brought his bag into the room and sat down on his bed, looking over the room. The walls were white as well as the linoleum floor, the only color in the room being the gray blankets on the bed.

“Who are you?”

“673, who are you?” He answered the other boy, quickly feeling apprehensive. He had never been around other children older or younger than him before and the boy sat across from him was definitely older than 10.

“Everyone calls me K. How old are you, kid.”

“We aren’t allowed to have nicknames.” He said, bewildered, his eyes wide at the audacity. “That’s against the rules. The director says we must go by our number and only our number.”

“When you do the directors dirty work, he makes some exceptions, kid. It’s not rocket science.” K said, standing and stretching. He was a lot taller than him and three times as menacing, but he sat still in his spot looking up at him blankly. He wasn’t weak. Showing fear was the mark of a coward and it was better to die than be that. “I asked you how old you are.”

“I’m seven, and my name is 673, not kid.” He turned to get his bag, standing and moving briskly past K, going to the small dresser on his side to pack away his spare outfit and the few toiletries they were permitted to keep in their own rooms. 

“I’m not calling you that. I haven’t used those numbers since the first time I got out of this hell and I’m never using them again.” K sat back down on the bed. He heard the springs squeak under his weight and he knew he was still looking at him.

“Don’t drag me into your rule breaking. I’m not here to cause a scene. I’m here to be useful.”

“Your optimism is sickening. You don’t know a single thing kid.” The bed creaked  
again, and when he turned back, K was laying down staring up at the ceiling.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say, but fighting would result in punishment and he had never received punishment before. He didn’t plan on receiving it today either, right before he was going to start training. 

He walked to his bed, silently pulling his legs up and holding them to his chest, trying to imagine what training would be like, trying not to inspire K to make any more comments.

It couldn’t have been more than another 10 minutes until the lights automatically shut off, signaling it was time for bed. He never knew what time it was, but it was the perfect time to go to sleep so that they would have the required amount of sleep when they woke up.

Like clockwork, he scooted back and pulled the covers over his legs, laying on his side and facing the wall, closing his eyes to sleep. 

While his eyes were closed, he heard a click. He had never heard the noise before and it came from K’s side, so he knew it could be nothing good. He didn’t look though, not wanting to see something he shouldn’t, but it got harder and harder to ignore as a different noise started. One he recognized. The noise of pages turning. 

He slowly opened his eyes and worked up the nerve to roll over, his eyes landing on K. He was laying in bed, a flashlight balanced on his chest, pointing to a black book he had never seen before. When he had went to class, they were given books sometimes, but all of them were written by the director. This book was foreign, from the outside, dangerous. When they left, they were strictly prohibited from bringing anything from the outside world back into the compound and he didn’t even know what they would do to K if he was caught with it. 

He stayed silent, his heart pounding, imagining the guards who patrolled the halls at night would just rush in at any moment. If you listened closely, you could hear them. You could hear the heels of their heavy boots pounding on the floors rhythmically, and if you didn’t sleep soon, if you didn’t stay quiet and in bed, they would unlock the door and take you somewhere bad. Somewhere you never wanted to be. He had never witnessed it happening, but he had heard the rumors and he didn’t want to witness it. 

“Do you want to see it?” K whispered. “I’ll show it to you but you have to keep your mouth shut.” He said it excitedly, like this was a game and he wasn’t jeopardizing everything he had.

“I can’t.” He whispered the words hoarsely. “They’ll know.”

“Kid, they tell you that they know everything because they want to keep you submissive. They want you full of fear and a sense of duty to their bullshit establishment and it’s all shit. I have been reading this book over and over since I got it last year and they have no idea.” K sat up in bed and waved him over.

His entire body told him no. It screamed to him to ignore him and turn around, but he got this feeling in his stomach. This twisting feeling of curiosity. The will to see what K had. The will to see what no one else he knew would ever see. The outside was dangerous, but from the pictures he had seen, it was deceivingly beautiful and a part of him just couldn’t let it go.

He stood up carefully, the bed not making a sound as he moved nor his feet as they padded across the floor. He sat on the edge of K’s bed, carefully looking down at the pages that K had lowered for him, scanning the words carefully.

They were nonsense. He didn’t understand it at all really, but the importance of it stayed and he carefully ran his finger under a line of words, his eyes shining.

“What is it?”

“A book of poetry. About feelings and love and freedom.” K said it with a smile, closing it carefully when he was done looking at it, putting it under the pillow. “They don’t teach you things like that anymore. They don’t teach you how to live, but I know it’s in us all and I’m going to achieve it. I’m going to do it soon too, kid. I’m about to leave this place in the dust and they won’t ever find me.”

His momentary curiosity was ended by K’s speech, his curiosity getting cut at the stem before it had a chance to really grow.

“Don’t talk like that.” He said it quickly, rising from the bed going back to his own, his demeanor tense and detached. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking kid.” K replied, his voice practically pained as he put the flashlight down beside the bed, fitting it snugly between the frame and the mattress. “I already have it all planned out. I have for months. I’m not living like this anymore.”

“Shut up.” He snapped, pulling his covers around himself, facing the wall and squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Just shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” He just wanted to train. He just wanted to learn how to use his powers to help. He couldn’t have it ruined now. He couldn’t get caught up in this when he was so close. It was all too much.

K must have picked up on it because he went silent, and he laid tense until he finally slipped off to sleep, hoping K would be gone in the morning when he woke up.

When the lights kicked on approximately eight hours later, he stood and dressed. K had already been gone, so he assumed he was pulled out sometime during the night. If he was already on missions, it might have been necessary for him to leave on emergency that night. He didn’t question it as he was guided down a hall to a door that led to a series of halls he had never seen before.

He was taken to a room to the right, then ushered in by the silent guard who shut the door behind him. 

He has always imagined that training would be fun. He had always thought that using his abilities would feel amazing. Cathartic. He knew his powers were much more subtle than most peoples’. He knew that some people couldn’t control them like he could so easily. Yet he always felt this itch, this nagging feeling scraping at the surface of his consciousness. He wanted it to come out. It was part of him. A scary part that he was afraid to use because he didn’t know what it would do to him if he really let go. In training he was safe though. He was enclosed and under watch and that side of him would never get the best of him there.

Training was not a release of powers though. There was no one there to talk to or any obstacle courses or targets. There were only other boys and girls of varying ages he was told to fight. He had to be trained in hand to hand combat first. What use would he be if he didn’t know how to defend himself without weapons? Stealth was his advantage, but they couldn’t afford him being clueless when he was at a disadvantage.

He was never taught to fight though. He was never taught how to throw a punch or defend himself and it was learn by example. There were no powers used as well.

The teacher watched in silence as they were grouped together and he fought child after child, gaining knowledge painfully. 

When it was time for lunch, his nose was bleeding sluggishly. He felt like one big bruise as he washed his face in the restroom at the teacher's command, and then he followed the group to his new cafeteria.

He wanted to ask if it was like that everyday, but he was afraid. He was afraid to speak to anyone because the rules hadn’t been explained, and he sat at the end of a table picking at the food that had been given to him, forcing himself to eat as much as he could. He felt sick all around, but they weren’t allowed to be wasteful and he would need his strength anyway. There was hours left of training, and if he collapsed, he was sure there would be more time added the next day. 

When it was finally over, he did what everyone else did. He showered, he went to eat dinner, and then he walked back to his room like a kicked dog. He could only hope it would be better the next day, even though deep down he knew it would be exactly the same.

He wondered if K would mock him. He would call him stupid for his excitement and tell him it never got better. K would see his face and know he was an utter failure. 

K never came back though. That day or the next.

He sat there on the second night, staring at his empty bed, an irrational feeling twisting in his gut that he had never experienced before. He crept slowly and silently, once again permitting himself to use his ability only here in the dark between he and K’s bed, and he lifted his pillow, his heart racing.

The book was gone. Not even a ruffle in the sheets where it was, and when he crawled over the bed to look for the flashlight, it was gone as well. He couldn’t help the frown on his face when he went back to his own bed.

When a new boy named 963 moved in the 3rd day he worked up the nerve to ask the guard who escorted him to training in the morning what had happened to his old roommate.

Apparently K had died on a mission. He could never be sure if that was true or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

K never did come back, but life did go on. He trained until he could beat every person in that room and could move on to honing his skill. His power was unique. He couldn’t easily be grouped with others, so most of the time he worked alone and that was fine with him. 

He learned how to disable alarms. He learned how to remain silent and unseen in the most difficult situations to hide. He also learned how to fire weapons. He learned with bows, throwing stars. With any projectile weapon he was given. He never missed. Not once. Even when the target was moving. And when he learned how to defend himself while simultaneously hitting targets impossibly far away with things as flimsy as darts, he was given his first gun.

He took to a gun like a duck took to water, and he wasn’t in training much longer after that.

In fact, he received clearance for firearms at the age of nine, and on his tenth birthday he was given his first mission.

Going into the world was mystifying. He was allowed to wear normal clothes and grow out his hair, and he had even been allowed to watch some television before he left so he learned how to act around others without being suspicious.

He was grinning like a fool as he walked down the streets of Seoul in a yellow rain slicker, watching all The People bustle around him. He heard people talk and laugh and sing. He watched them prepare food and carry their children, and the longing he felt was replaced by a sense of relief that he was removed from this before he could destroy it along with everyone else in that compound.

He couldn’t get too distracted though. He had to meet a guard who would take him back at a very specific time and he didn’t want to fail on his first mission, so he hurried along, pulling his hood up as it started to rain.

His boots squeaked as he moved along through the streets until he reached the convenience store that was his target.

The owner was a superhuman. He was providing food for fugitives under the table and perpetuating the movement of superhumans in the area. He had to be stopped and he was an easy first kill.

He pushed open the door gently in silence, the bell above the door vibrating without making a sound. His boots and slicker no longer squeaked as he entered the cramped building, slipping behind the aisles into the obscurity, listening to the sound of the target whistling behind the counter as he fiddled with the cash register.

He slipped his hand under his coat and grasped his hand gun, listening to be sure that there was no one else in the store. There shouldn’t be. He would be alerted if there was by the comm in his ear, but there was nothing and he heard no one else, so he stopped at the last aisle, pulling the gun from its holster. 

He stared for one moment. He looked at the gun, knowing what it would do and what it would make him become. Then he pictured the people on the streets. He pictured them walking and living and all without fear because of the superhumans kept at bay. 

He moved in a flash, whipping around the aisle, pointing at the mans head and pulling the trigger. The bullet shot without a noise as the man fell to the ground, equally as silent, and it was over. He barely even looked at him, and he kept it that way as he moved forward and reached over the counter on his tiptoes, grabbing the cash with gloved hands, shoving it in his pocket before shooting the security camera in the corner twice. The directors had already taken care of getting rid of the footage, but there couldn’t be a dead man with a bullet in his head and no gunshots heard.

He put the gun away and flipped his hood up before heading out the back entrance through the stockroom he had been informed about, hurrying down the alley until he could head back into the streets, slipping into the crowd. 

He was just a 10 year old boy walking through the streets of Seoul to get home, and the man dead around the corner was a byproduct of a robbery gone wrong. That was all. 

He didn’t let himself think about it until he was back in his room that night, and even then it wasn’t by choice. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the man with a hole in his head, and no matter what he he did, he couldn’t purge the thought.

He laid, shaking under the blanket, his eyes wet with unshed tears, wondering how he could feel so bad about something that was supposed to be right.

He cried for the first time in 6 years that night, and the next day, he was off on his second mission bright and early to do another staged robbery gone wrong.

He internalized all his feelings on it. It was the only way he could keep going and he had no choice. There was no quitting. There was only be useful or useless and the latter resulted in nothing good for anyone. 

Eventually, it became almost mindless, and he didn’t bat an eye when he took down groups of people at once, their bodies hitting the floor one by one like dominos, his finger on the trigger masterfully starting the topple.

He became important. He became trusted. He was given his own room and missions of more importance. He was working his way up the ladder, and he didn’t know where it ended, but the only way he could go was up.

When he was 16, he got the most important mission he had ever had. A family of superhumans. They were rich, and that made them brave enough to neglect to hide what they were. They felt too safe, and they must be taught a lesson. 

It was risky. He was briefed countless times on the procedure and he listened with a blank stare, noting it all the details carefully. 

The house was difficult to enter. Money always made things harder, but he wasn’t a novice, and he was in the house undetected in the amount of time he was supposed to be. 

The house was eerily quiet even without his influence, and he frowned, feeling unnerved for the first time in a long time on a mission. He bit his bottom lip though and continued through the living room. 

He couldn’t help but notice the house was covered in pictures. All over the walls in frames were family photos from when the children were babies to the age they probably were now. One in particular caught his eye, and he stopped to examine it. The father was holding his son in his arms his wife beside him with their daughter. They were all smiling wide, the son in particular looking absolutely ecstatic. 

He looked into his eyes, then wondering what it felt like to have a father and mother. What it felt like to be held in someone’s arms, or to even tell someone he loved them. He had never experienced any of those things and obviously these people had. They had lives and feelings and he would be stripping them of that. 

He felt sick to his stomach, but he was interrupted by a scream. He looked alarmed as the woman of the household stood in the doorway, and he heard heavy footsteps coming his way.

He dropped the photo in his panic, flinching as it shattered. His nerves had been shot and he struggled to pull out his gun. He took his aim, moving on autopilot, getting the woman as she was almost into the arms of her husband right in the back of her head. The sound of the gun fire set his nerves ablaze, his fingers tingling and his ears ringing. 

There was a cry of anguish from the man, and before he knew it, he was being grabbed. With hands around his neck, he was backed into the wall harshly, his back lighting up with pain. More of the framed photos shattered as they hit the floor. He gasped for breath, but even in his panic, he let the blade he had up his sleeve slip down and he jammed it into the man’s arm to get him off. 

There was more screaming and strangled words, but his ears were still ringing and he couldn’t understand. He moved like a cornered animal, looking up when he heard another piercing scream. The daughter stood, sobbing, and he watched her pull out her phone. Instinctively, he raised his gun, again shooting her right between the eyes before she had time to blink. 

His distraction had lost him his chance at the father, though, and he was tackled to the coffee table. The knife and the gun were knocked from his hand as the wood splintered below him, and everything crashed to the ground.

“Why?” The man cried, slamming his fist down on his nose breaking it upon impact. “Why? Why?” He sobbed as he pounded his face in, the wound in his arm gushing over them both. 

He could only lay stunned for a moment before he came back to his senses enough to buck his head upward and smash his forehead into the man's to get him off. As the older man howled in pain, he took his chance and slid out from underneath him, grasping for his gun. 

Even though his hands were shaking, he shot with deadly precision. The moment the bullet pierced his heart, it was all over and the man went limp, his eyes still open and glazed staring straight into his. 

He rose to his feet completely after a moment, covering his mouth, the blood dripping from his nose and seeping into his mouth not helping him fight off the nauseated feeling overcoming him. 

He moved around the bodies, quickly banking up the stairs, rushing towards the bathroom. He had the entire place memorized so it wasn’t hard to find, and he ran to slip down in front of the toilet, flipping up the lid quickly to lose the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl that reeked of clorox. He was sure they had a maid that came to clean for them, and he puked harder at the thought, gripping the edge of the seat like a vice, his knuckles white.

After he regained his composure, he sat up and flushed away the evidence, standing up to gaze at himself in the mirror. 

He was supposed to leave. He was supposed to meet a guard parked a block away and drive back to the compound before the police inevitably arrived because of worried neighbors. He couldn't do it though. He couldn’t move from in front of the sink, watching his blood drip down the curve of his cupids bow and drip with little plops down the drain. He looked disgusting, but it couldn’t compare to the way he felt.

He had never witnessed anyone struggle. He had killed every superhuman he had been instructed too without them ever even knowing he was there. They had seen his face. They had seen the life leave the eyes of the people they loved the most and he was responsible. The blamed landed on his shoulders and it was inescapable.

He stared into his own eyes, wondering what kind of monster could do that? What kind of monster could kill easier than they could breathe?

His feet moved seemingly to their own accord to the large clawfoot bathtub. He leaned to put the plug in the drain before turning both the hot and cold handles on the entire way. He watched the water gush from the faucet for a moment before making the room fall silent as he stepped into the tub fully, clothed sitting, down in the water already there, reclining back and closing his eyes.

He couldn’t hear the water, but he could feel it. He could feel it rise higher and higher, soaking into his clothes and warming his skin, and he smiled. He smiled so big it hurt as the water crawled sluggishly up his chest, tickling his neck. The water licked at his chin and lapped at his mouth and he sat still as it went to his nose, flooding his nostrils as he breathed it in like air.

It started to burn, but he didn’t struggle letting the water spill over the side as the tub overflowed. He laid still as his chest screamed and his hands twitched and his brain screamed again and again to stand and pull air in.

He had never felt such excruciating pain, but he continued to welcome it with a smile until his head was fuzzy. They world was undulating, his body seeming to pulse as his consciousness and life slipped further and further away into oblivion, the only cognizant feeling he had being the sound of his own slowing heart beat in his ears.

The exact moment he faded away wasn’t clear to him, but eventually his body did go slack, the sound of the gushing water roaring to life.

He woke up the next day in his bed with no memory of how he had left the target house, two pills and a bottle of water sitting next to him on his small table, the lights dimmed.

He sat up slowly, his entire body aching, and took the pills, not caring what they were, sipping the water before laying back down.

No one ever mentioned it again, but he kept receiving the little pills long after his pain subsided and was conveniently not signed onto any missions for months after.

Eventually, it started to slip from him though. Over the years, the memory became hazy and distilled, and while the events were clear, he could no longer remember that feeling. That awful, all-consuming feeling that had overwhelmed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life returned to its routine. Like the sun rise and fall, he moved in his cycle. 

He was doing what was right.

He was doing what was best.

He was where he needed to be.

He told himself that everyday, and every night he listened to the voices that whispered from the walls telling him the same thing.

He never dreamed of leaving. Never once did he believe he could make it in the real world or that he deserved to be a free man without bounds and restrictions.

If he had a choice, he would have elected to stay behind the white walls contained until the day he died. His life had never been his choice from the day he was born though.

The compound lit up. Like a firework, the halls blinked, red sirens wailing from the walls.

He had been on his way from the training room to the cafeteria when they started, and he fell still, completely at a loss.

He heard gunshots then. He heard gunshots fire all around, and before he knew what he was doing, he rushed towards them.

All around were dead men. Dead guards. Dead doctors. Dead superhumans. They littered the floor like garbage on the streets and he felt his heart pound. He wasn't allowed guns or weapons of any kind when he wasn't out or training so he was completely defenseless. He turned around, assuming his room would be the best place to wait this out until he was stopped by a voice.

“Hey! You!” the voice was deep and commanding and he froze on the spot, looking back at him slowly. 

The man had him at gunpoint, his eyes shining with mischief, his hair a light pink color, and every visible inch of his skin was covered in tattoos. 

“Are you superhuman?” The man questioned him like he was talking to a child, and he was well aware the pink haired man was treating this like a game, and a very dangerous one at that. 

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, unsure of what to say, unsure of what his agenda was. “Are you?”

“What do you think?”

“How should I know? I don't know you.”

“I’m Jaebum.” the man said simply, taking a step closer. He watched Jaebum though. He watched the way he gripped the gun and he knew it wasn't a weapon he was comfortable with. He had found his crutch and he wasn’t afraid to use it to his advantage. 

“Still doesn't tell me who you are.” he said carefully, flicking his eyes back up to Jaebum’s face, his voice becoming more cocky than stoic. Jaebum seemed to be fueled by fear and he was never one to give people what they wanted.

“The fucking antichrist or some shit.” Jaebum spat with no real menace, his facade beginning to crack around the edges. Jaebum was going to pull the trigger, his eyes gleaming and his shoulders tense. Before he had the chance to go through with it, his gun was flying across the room and sliding across the floor.

“I don't know what you want or who you are, but if you think I’m going to stand and die so easily, I do know you are a fool.”

He was expecting a struggle. A punch or a kick. But Jaebum stayed still, looking at him before laughing out loud, his whole body shaking with a force of it.

“You're good. I like you. You should come with me. What's your name?” Jaebum’s mood had changed in a flash, a dazzling smile lighting up his face as if he didn’t just try and murder the other boy.

“673?” he mumbled. 

“What?” Jaebum retorted, his expression souring in distaste.

“My name. It’s 673.” he repeated stubbornly, trying to fathom what kind of situation he was in right now. 

“Bullshit.” Jaebum said, his anger returning. He pulled a phone from his pocket and then tapped on the screen a few times before turning it and to show him. 

“See, Park Jinyoung. That's your name.” Jaebum said it confidently, and he could only shake his head.

“I don't have a name. I have always just been...673.” He said it robotically, staring at the screen vacantly, his eyes glued to the foreign characters on the screen.

“Well Jinyoung, it's on the compound database, so it's what your parents named you. Take it or leave it. Now hurry up and move along before I change my mind and decide to kill you.”

Jaebum slipped his phone in his pocket and moved towards the door, and after a moment, Jinyoung followed.

He was perplexed. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that people were dying, he had been spared, and his best option was to follow Jaebum through halls and get ushered out with children away from the white walls and their protection.

It all seemed a little less scary now that he had a name though.

He stepped out into the sun and breathed the air, following behind Jaebum diligently as a liberated man.

His own man.

Park Jinyoung.


	2. Growth

“Bambam!” Beer’s voice was loud in the silence of the normally raucous house. “Where are you?” His voice called out tauntingly, and Bambam covered his mouth, trying to stay silent to avoid being found.

 

“You can’t hide forever.” Beer called out again, his voice getting louder as he got closer. Bambam was practically shaking with the anticipation of it all. When the cabinet door was ripped open, he screamed at the light flooding in along with the sight of Beer’s face.

 

“How many times have I told you no using your powers.” Beer chided, clicking his tongue. “It's unfair to use them during the game and you know that.”

 

“I wasn’t!” Bambam protested loudly as he stumbled out from between the miscellaneous food items his mother had kept there. “I fit in there normal size! See!” he stated proudly, looking up at Beer with a grin. The six-year-old had gotten called out for cheating one too many times during their games of hide and seek, and he would not be bullied by his older brother when he had listened to directions that time.

 

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you really are just that much of a shrimp naturally.” Beer teased, ruffling Bambam’s hair much to his younger brother’s chagrin. 

 

“Hey! Mom said you and Bank hit a growth spurt and that I will too. I won’t be so small forever.” His brothers had teased him mercilessly about his small stature, mostly because they knew it flustered him, and he preached his mother's words like the gospel in his own defense, sticking his tongue out at Beer, his eyes squinted in contempt. 

 

“What did I say! If you make ugly faces like that, you’ll get stuck like that forever.” Beer said, wagging his finger, riling Bambam up even more.

 

“At least mine would be ugly for a reason. You were just born like that.” After hearing Beer and Bank bicker for most of his life, he had picked up quite a few lines, and judging by the look on Beer’s face, that had been a good one.

 

“That’s it! You’re done for mister!” Bambam tried to run. He squealed and tried to run right passed Beer towards the living room, but Beer was just too fast. When he wrapped his arms around his waist, Bambam was powerless, only being able to squeal as he draped him over his shoulder like a sack, holding him in place by his legs.

 

“Put me down, jerk!” He yelled, pounding his fists into his brother’s back, ignoring the way all his blood rushed to his head and how his entire world started to sway as Beer started walking. 

 

“No.” Beer said simply with a laugh, walking extra slow into the living room laughing louder as Bambam let out a loud groan, crossing his arms and pouting all the way to the couch where Beer finally decided to let him drop into a heap right beside Bank, who was sitting watching the tv. He has been participating in the game as well, but he had been much easier to find. 

 

“Did he cheat again?” He asked, never even looking away from what was on the screen. Bambam kicked him fussily as he straightened himself out on the middle cushion, refusing to look at Beer when he sat down on the other side of him, sandwiching him there. 

 

“I didn’t cheat! I’m just the best.” He snapped, getting cranky after being teased by both of them incessantly since he had been found.

 

“Someone’s grumpy.” Bank mumbled, his bottom lip jutting out as he rubbed his thigh where Bam had assaulted him. 

 

“‘Cause I didn’t cheat and you guys always say I do! And no powers is a dumb role anyway. I never said we couldn’t use them. You guys could use ‘em and I wouldn’t even care.” He groused. 

 

“How am I supposed to bend the earth to help myself win at hide and seek?” Bank asked, looking over at Bambam for the first time, covering his mouth to hold back a smile at the utterly furious expression on his little brother’s face.

 

“You could build a wall and hide behind it, duh.” Bambam snapped, wondering why his brothers couldn’t just think and be intelligent for once.

 

“Inside the house? I don’t know if mom would like that.” Bank said softly. Bambam didn’t detect any sarcasm so he pursed his lips thinking about it. His mom probably wouldn’t be very happy if Bank did get the carpet all dirty with a bunch of rocks, and he looked to Beer for his excuse next to see him already smiling down at him, and immediately he got a bad feeling.

 

“Electricity powers aren’t good for hide and seek, but you know what they are good for?” He reached out, his fingers glowing yellow and once again Bambam wanted to run but he had no time before Beer’s fingers were all over. The very very low voltage of electricity he was using made his fingers tickle even more and Bambam couldn’t help but writhe and scream with laughter.

 

Tears were rolling down his cheeks by the time Beer finally stopped, and he went limp again, sucking in large breaths to try and catch the wind that had been knocked out of him.

 

“No good for hide and seek but perfect for tickling disobedient little brothers.”  Beer said softly, wiping Bambam’s cheeks with his sleeve gingerly. Bambam couldn’t even say anything as he continued to calm down, just dragging himself forward so he could rest his head on Beer’s leg, letting out a little puff of air. 

 

He was tired after all that drama and he knew both his brothers would be done picking after that, so he closed his eyes, not fighting it when Bank picked up his legs to drape them across his own lap so Bambam could stretch them out.

 

He fell asleep to the feeling of Beer’s hands carding through his hair and the sound of the tv rumbling quietly in the background. 

 

When his mom returned an hour later holding Baby in her arms, he woke up and quickly told on them both for their teasing.

 

They may have been good to lay on, but they were still jerks, and when his mom held him in her arms and assured him he would grow and not just by his powers, he felt a lot better even if she didn’t necessarily punish either of his brothers for their mockery.

 

His mom always had those powers of making him feel better. She was the best person he knew and while he did like his brothers a lot, even though he didn’t want to admit it, and he adored his baby sister, his mom would always hold the most special place in his heart.

 

She never made him feel bad about being himself. She always supported him. The way he liked to dress. The music he listened to. She was his number one fan and it meant a lot to him even if he didn’t always realize that everything she was doing was for him and his siblings in the long run.

 

He especially appreciated her support with his powers.

 

His mom never had any. She was a human child born to two superhuman parents. She had married their dad though and he was an amazingly powerful superhuman. The way she talked about him, he just knew he was amazing and he was the reason, along with his mother’s recessive gene, that he and his brothers all had been born with powers as well.

 

They found out about all of them fairly young. Both his older brothers had shown they were born with the gene when they were around three or four. Bambam, on the other hand, had used his powers for the first time when he was two.

 

His mom told him the story of how she had turned her back for one minute to get him a drink, and when she had turned back around, he had been standing there bright eyed and smiling and a couple feet bigger than he had been before.

 

The power to shrink and grow. His physical appearance was not altered in away, his proportions remaining exactly the same, but his size fluctuated at his command. It was a great power, and ever since they had discovered it, they had been working on it with him.

 

His mom told him that everyday after they discovered what his power was, his father had worked with him to help him learn how to control it. 

 

That lasted all the way until he died when Bambam was three.

 

Bambam couldn’t remember it much at all, but he knew his mom wasn’t lying so it felt good to know.

 

His mom had taken control of helping after that until he was old enough to go to school and was able to enroll in a class where a teacher would help him navigate what it was like to have powers like he did.

 

Thailand was exceptional with the treatment of superhumans. Bambam had been born into a time in their country where he didn’t have to be afraid of what he was, and he went to a school where both humans and superhumans worked in tandem. 

 

He heard the stories. He heard about the murders all across China. The wars plaguing Europe. The fear in Korea. He couldn’t understand it really. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, but he was thankful for where his placement was in life, just like his mother had taught him to be, and happy in his diverse group of friends.

 

Things didn’t start changing until he was a little older, and he realized the world didn’t always stay the same. His brothers were changing. They were growing just like he was, but the more they grew, the further they moved away from him and he wasn’t ready for them to go. He didn’t expect them to play baby games anymore by the time he was eleven. Hide and seek was a thing of the past, and he was ready to take walks and ride bikes just like all the older boys did. Sure he could with his friends, but it would be cooler if he went with Beer and Bank because they were older. Everyone told him they were cool. When he mentioned them, his friends were in awe, and he would tell all kinds of stories about what they would do and the kinds of things they would say.

 

Sure going along with them would make Bambam cool by default, but he missed them just as much as he desired to be admired, and the instincts he had to follow them around were as strong as they ever were.

 

They were the ones who’s instincts were failing. Their will to guide Bambam was all but gone, and all Bambam ever heard from them was no. No, he couldn’t walk to school with them. He had to walk to school with Baby, and no, Baby couldn’t come too. No, you can’t come out with us and our friends. No, we won’t teach you that trick on the bike. Just no.

 

Bambam felt his resentment grow as he watched them from the sidelines, and when he talked to his mom about it, she told him there was nothing she could do. They were growing up. They were doing the things kids around their ages did and Bambam just wasn’t around that age yet. She never let them be blatantly mean to him, but at that point insults would have been better than nothing, and when his friends asked him about his cool older brothers he kept his mouth shut. He had brothers, but they weren’t cool when they were excluding him. Instead he just had to become the cool older brother and protect Baby.

 

Baby was different though. Baby didn’t like to rough house or ride bikes or go swimming. Baby liked to play dolls and house and talk to her friends. She did like Bambam at least. She always told him she did, and she liked to hold his hand and walk with him to school and he even played tag with her when she asked. Even if he was too old, it was for her sake anyway, and unlike Beer and Bank he was willing to make a few sacrifices. Not that he was still holding a grudge or anything.

 

It was hard to be with Baby either. Even if she was a girl and she always told him his hair was too long and that he talked too loud, she had a pretty laugh and she was always smiling and Bambam had vowed to always protect her, so it made him happy to see her happy. 

 

When she broke away, he felt the loss way harder than he did with Beer and Bank.

 

Baby didn’t have powers. It was a highly unlikely thing to occur, but like their mother, her powers didn’t start when she was four or any time before the age of thirteen, and there was little to no chance of her developing any later than that.

 

She had always been worried. She would cry to her mom and she would cry to Bambam because of course she wanted to be just like her big brothers. She wanted to be strong and take the special class at school and show off like all the girls who had powers did at recess, but that childhood jealousy turned to hatred in the wake of her teenage years and Bambam fell on the wrong side of the line.

 

She never said that was why she was so irritated. His brothers didn’t even notice as they were both preoccupied, but Bambam did as her remarks became shorter and snappier and she shut him out of everything. He wasn’t needed as her protector anymore and he was cast to the side once again, floundering to find a place. 

 

Everyone was growing. Everyone was changing and maturing and he knew he had to be too, he knew he was going through his own phases of independence and teenage angst because, as a sixteen year old, it was unavoidable, but he couldn’t see it. All that was tangible was the growth of his body physically and he wished maturing was as easy as it was to concentrate and grow a few feet.

 

He hadn’t exactly told his mom his dilemma. He felt stupid and disconnected and he couldn’t help that his sister was different, but he never felt for a moment that there was anything wrong with that so he didn’t get why he had to be punished. He just wanted to keep showing her he loved her because he had made it his purpose and he didn’t know what to do without it. He couldn’t tell Baby that though because he seemed pathetic and he wasn’t going to run to his mom like a child and complain when he knew there was nothing she could do.

 

His mom noticed though. Raising four kids on her own has not dulled her senses, and a few days after Bambam had come to the realization of what had been a long time coming, he received a knock on the door, his mom coming in a few minutes later, starting to tidy around his room as if that was all she had come in for. 

 

“Bambam,” she scooped up a pile of laundry he had left on the floor at the end of the bed, dropping it in his laundry basket before sitting down on the edge, patting his legs. He looked away from his phone, dropping it on the bed, laying on his side as he looked back at her.

 

“How did class go today?”

 

“It was fine. I did well on that trigonometry test I was worried about.” He explained. He knew that she had another motive, but he also knew there was no point in asking her. She had to make her way to her point and she always did one way or another. 

 

“What about that essay you were working on in English. You have always done so well in English.” She looked at him with an easy smile and he stared back at her, starting to gather what this was about just by the expression on her face. 

 

“I turned it in yesterday. The teacher hasn’t graded it yet, but I felt really good about it when I turned it in so I’m sure I’ll do well.” He answered again, biting his bottom lip after watching his mom smooth a wrinkle in his sheets carefully, her wedding ring glimmering in the light from the window. Bambam had never seen her without the ring on. 

 

“You used to hate English you know. When you started it in school, everyday you would come home complaining to be about how hard it was to make the right sounds come out.” He kept his eyes resolutely on her hand, a shiver running down his spine as he listened to her, continuing to stay silent. “You know what you used to say to me? You used to come home and tug on my arm and you would pout your lips out as big as you could get them and told me they didn’t work right.” She laughed loudly and Bambam could hear the smile in her voice.“You made me laugh so much back then. You always had such big problems, but you know when I went in to talk to your teacher, she told me you worked the hardest at English in your class. You were excelling when you thought you were failing. You always want to do things that will make others proud and you remind me so much of your father in that way.” 

 

“Mom,” Bambam said looking over at her, voice cracking. When she talked about his dad, he always felt sad. In a way, it was good because he could learn things about him that he had never learned before, but he could never understand how she could talk about him like she did. How she could still love him so much and smile at his memory instead of letting his loss cloud her mind like it always clouded Bambam’s.

 

“Bammie, I'm going to tell you something, but you need to promise me that you'll keep it a secret,” his mom looked right into his eyes as he sat up, and even though he was confused and a little bit frightened, he nodded his head.

 

“Bambam, I was always going to tell you this sometime, but I had to wait until I thought you were old enough to handle it and wouldn't hold it over your brothers’ and sister’s heads.” She patted the space on the bed right next to her and Bambam moved over to sit, leaning his head on her shoulder, relaxing as she wrapped her arm around him.

 

“Sweetheart, it’s extremely rare that anyone would have powers related to that of a family member. The gene is extremely unpredictable and mutations are usually very unique to the person even if their power is similar to that of another person.”  Bambam knew all of that. He had heard the speech regurgitated in school enough times already, but he knew where his mom was going and his mouth went dry, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

 

“That's why, when you started displaying signs of your ability, your father and I were so confused. We have never heard of anything like it before, but you and your father both had the same ability.” She gave Bambams arm a squeeze as he stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

 

“He was so excited, Bambam. I had never seen him so excited, and I just know that he would be so proud of you now with how far you have come. You both have this spark about you. This fire in your eyes, and while I see him in all of my children, you are definitely the one who got his passion. It's something you can never lose.” She reached with her free hand and placed it on his chest over his heart, her eyes filled with tears she had yet to let herself shed. “You aren't stuck anywhere Bambam. You are just moving too fast and sometimes it is hard to keep up. Everything will work in it's own time though.”

 

Bambam nodded his head, speechless, hugging her back in a daze until she collected herself, kissing his head and leaving to continue with whatever she had been doing before.

 

Bambam laid in his bed for a long time after, staring at the ceiling, letting the information sink in.

 

It seemed too good to be true, but once again he knew his mom never lied. All he had of his father before was a picture of him holding him as a baby. Now, he had the knowledge that he shared something so astronomically unlikely with the greatest man he knew of.

 

He understood why he had to keep it a secret. His brothers would be jealous and resentful, and he knew Baby was already sore about having nothing at all, and if she found out, she would be even more mad at him for something he couldn’t control. The information was for him and him alone and he knew it. 

 

He still didn’t know how his mom stayed on top of things like she did, but she always knew exactly what to say.

 

Bambam never did tell his siblings what his mom had said that day, but when his brothers talked down to him and his sister ignored him, he held onto the thought and braced himself to wait however long it took for them to see that he was waiting and ready to forgive them for shutting him out.

 

In the meantime, he found comfort in his friends. Earth and Wall were always there to hang out with him, and as college entrance exams approached and his stress levels rose and rose, they were always there to go get food with him or go to one of those fancy parties Mean always threw.

 

He was in his own little world with them and he didn't even notice the changes at first. 

 

Thailand had always been a sanctuary for him. His beautiful country with its beautiful beaches and its progressive views that saved them from the subjugation that other countries faced.

 

He heard rumors of course. There was some anti-superhuman group and they had this entire social media page about the extermination of all mutants. They posted horrifically gory pictures as well and their page spread all throughout the school before it had been taken down. 

 

Everyone said they were just editing. Some kids looking for attention. Bambam didn’t handle gore well, so he never even looked at the pictures, letting it pass like any other rumor did in the school since it didn't affect him.

 

When the protests started, he wasn't really affected either. Small groups marching, chanting nonsense about humans being the superior race were of no real threat and the police always made them all go home after a few hours anyway. 

 

The man on the news had called them radicals. They were just stirring up trouble and there weren't enough of them to really achieve anything. 

 

Bambam’s mom watched the news religiously after it had started, but Bambam didn't have stress to waste on small problems that had no chance of growing into big ones.

 

At least, it seemed like a little problem. That's all anyone ever said. This group was small. A gnat that flew around your head and drove you crazy, but a simple insect that could be killed with one quick slap. 

 

No one knew what it really was until it was too late. An infectious disease deeply rooted, festering and spreading with no visible signs.

 

He had read in a history book once about revolutions. Every single revolution, no matter what it was about, followed the same cycle. 

 

There were fevers. The people got sick and their temperatures climbed into hysteria.

 

The protests grew along with the divide among people. It started in the big cities and spread through the towns and no one was safe.

 

The fever pitch hit hard and protests turned to riots. Houses were set on fire in the middle of the night, schools were vandalized, and people were attacked on the streets.

 

There was no real reason for it. Some edits on the internet. Some signs written in red ink calling for genocide. They were insignificant, but they planted the seed of fear in the nation’s stomach.

 

People didn’t know who to trust. No one's word could be taken at face value. Superhumans and humans who had coexisted together better than anywhere else self destructed and brought their beautiful country to chaos. 

 

The schools had closed and his brothers had come home. Their priority was keeping the family safe, and once again, his purpose was clear. No more parties. No more bike rides or meals out together. No more studying for exams or trying to choose which university he wanted to attend. All he had to do was make sure the people he loved were safe. 

 

In order for a fever to break though, it had to reach its highest point. The suffering and horror had to reach its peak, and it did.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“It will be safe.” Beer snapped, snacking his fist down on the table. Bambam felt his face burn as his mother and sister both jumped, gripping the edge of the table tightly with both hands.

 

“How do you know that?” He argued, gritting his teeth.

 

“We haven't told anyone about it other than people we know we can trust. We were careful, Bambam. We aren't stupid.”

 

“It seems pretty stupid to me that you continue to trust people when you know we can't.” Bambam said, his voice low, his expression staying stony even as Beer reached out and grabbed his collar. His brother always got violent in times like this. He didn't like to be challenged, but Bambam wouldn't let him jeopardize them all.

 

“These have been people we have known for years.” Bank chimed in. He had been pacing off to the side of the table since the family discussion had started. Unlike Beer, he got anxious. He always had trouble making up his mind, but more often times than not, he followed along with what Beer wanted.

 

“That means nothing!” He stepped back, forcefully ripping away from Beer, sitting down at the table again, looking to his mother and sister who had been sitting and watching. “You both can't seriously be on board with this. These are the kinds of things that get people killed.”

 

“Honey,” his mom started. She seemed nervous as well and he hated it. She was always nervous anymore and seeing such a self assured woman like that broke his heart. “I have known these families since before you were born. Your father and I made these friends and trust them like we would family.” 

 

“People change in times like this.” Bambam said, practically begging. He looked straight at his mother, trying to get her to understand. She was the only one who could persuade his brothers to drop this. “Secret meetings or gatherings of any kind are recipe for disaster. It puts a huge target on our back. We don't need to play the heros. We need to protect ourselves before anything else.”

 

“How is anything supposed to change if everyone had a mindset as cowardly as yours.” Baby jumped in, her tone icey but her eyes burning as she glared at Bambam. 

 

“I'm not being cowardly! I only want us all to live! Why is that so hard to understand?”  He got angry again, looking at Baby, not understanding why she felt the need to fight him every single step of the way. 

 

“You would rather live in silence than fight for those who can't fight for themselves. You would rather sit here and be useless while people are dying for what they believe in because they would rather die to stand up for themselves than live and sit, letting others fight for them.” The room had gone silent, and Bambam could only stare at his sister, his chest aching.

 

“We have no choice but to do something. It’s already been decided so it's useless to fight it now.” Beer said, going to their mother’s side as she rose in her seat. “We are going to be late because of you anyway, so either get a grip and join us, or stay here and pout.” 

 

“That's enough.” Bambam’s mother said angrily, looking to Beer. “He can make his decision but I don’t want anymore arguing. This is not the time for that.”  She walked around the table to Bambam, putting both her hands on his shoulders giving them a squeeze as he stared down at the table dejectedly. “It will be fine. Your father would be doing the same thing and I know it in my heart. You just have to trust me.”

 

She let go, staring at him as Baby walked around with Beer and Bank, preparing to leave to head down to the church they had agreed to meet at to discuss what to do.

 

They had planned it behind Bambam’s back knowing he would never go along with it, and of course when they had brought it up, he didn't take it well.

 

He didn't want to be a coward. He didn't want to be someone his father wouldn't be proud of, but he had a terrible feeling and he couldn't even look at his mother, just staring at the worn wood.

 

“You know where we will be if you change your mind.” She whispered before walking with them towards the front door. 

 

Bambam listened to them go, looking up when the door opened, watching as Beer and Bank filed out first, then his mom and finally Baby. 

 

Bambam watched silently and he bit his lip when she looked back. She caught his eyes for a few moments and he stared. He tried to convey that he was worried. That he just wanted what was best for them so that they could all be safe. He wanted her to come back in. For them all to come back.

 

Of course the battle had already been lost, and all he received from her was a pained look of disappointment before she shut the door.

 

He waited for hours. He paced around the room; he couldn't sit or eat. He could only watch the door, waiting for them to come home safely to stop the feeling that was consuming him. The terror that they wouldn't. 

 

He wished he would have just went eventually. He wished he wasn't so stubborn so that he could see them now and know that they were safe.

 

He was going to leave and get them after three hours of waiting. He had worked up the nerve and dropped the feeling of wanting to beat the shit out of Beer, but before he could get to the door the entire house shook. He stumbled as the walls shook, books and collectables raining to the floor. 

 

His first instinct was earthquake, but as the house stilled it began to shake again and then he heard the noises. Over and over he heard the explosions. 

 

There had to be hundreds of bombs. Certainly too many to count, and when one hit the top of the house he barely had time to react. His instincts told him to shrink and when he was no bigger than a bug the house collapsed around him in shambles.

 

He had lost consciousness sometime throughout the ordeal, and when he woke up in a pile of rubble hours later, his entire body sore, he woke up in a place he he didnt recognize.

 

Everything was destroyed. Their entire town was nothing but ruins and dead bodies, and Bambam saw the horrors of it as he ran. Something was wrong with his leg. Something had fallen on it and he knew something was wrong, but he ran despite the pain and the cuts and bruises because he had to get to the church. 

 

“Mom!” he called out desperately, shifting through the rubble, desperately trying to find them. Trying to find anyone. Beer, Bank, or Baby. “Mom!” 

 

He screamed incase anyone could hear him, incase anyone could call out so he could find them and help them. He couldn't have been the only one to live. He couldn't have been the sole survivor. He couldn't be the only one who deserves to live as the coward. As the disappointment who sat back as his family moved on without him.

 

He stopped searching when he found the ring. He saw the diamond gleaming and he scooped it carefully into his hands, tears bubbling over as he screamed in agony, his throat burning as he wailed, knowing he had lost everything. His mom never went anywhere without her ring.

 

A week later, he climbed aboard a cargo ship heading for Korea, hiding among the boxes, only a bit bigger than an ant, away from the country that had once been his home. There was nothing left there for him and no way for him to get what he needed.

 

At least in Korea, they had an organization. A place where he could learn to fight back. Where he could be useful and fight; where he could try to make up for being the most useless coward that ever lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite running late all week I have somehow managed to get this up on the right day!!!!shocking. But let's be honest I suck at staying on a schedule so I'm surprised I made it two weeks in a row oops.
> 
> As always I would love to hear what everyone thinks so leave me a comment <3 You can yell at me for being mean to Bambam and I'll agree with all the mean things you say bc I feel bad too whoops :")
> 
> Until next week~


	3. Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a huge chapter and I'm not sorry about it~

Yugyeom laid in bed, his eyes screwed shut tightly. All week he had been getting headaches. They had been ranging in severity, but most of them had been relatively easy to handle. That day though, things had started bad and they had only gotten worse as time went on.

His mom had been in a panic in the morning. After complaining of headaches that entire week, she had already been worried, and when he felt like he couldn’t even get out of bed because of how severe it was, she had thrown a fit proclaiming she was going to make him a doctors appointment for the next day. She had always been a huge hypochondriac. She had convinced herself that she had multiple illnesses already, ranging from shingles to breast cancer, and all of it was in her head. With Yugyeom, it had always been three times worse.

His brother had told him she wasn’t always so bad. When he was little, she apparently wasn’t so high strung, but after she had a miscarriage, she had changed completely. She had been terrified to have another baby, yet she had conceived Yugyeom anyway. She had always wanted a lot of children, and even if that dream couldn’t be realized, she wanted to have more than one, so they had tried again and Yugyeom had been born a plump happy baby free of complications. 

Anytime he had the slightest ailment though, his mother treated him as if he was incapacitated. As a child being waited on hand and foot, staying home a week from school for something as simple as a small cough that his mom was sure was bronchitis no matter what the doctor said, was amazing. As a 13 year old trying to live a boyishly free life though, his mother's nagging and hovering and endless bottles of pills for any pain he might feel became an utterly embarrassing burden. 

He had denied his mother's offer vehemently and only took the pain pills she offered before banishing her from his room to leave him sleep off the headache in peace. 

The pill really had done nothing though. As he laid there, it only got worse and worse, and he could do nothing but clutch his own head, his fingers weaved into his hair, yanking as hard as he could as if it would release the immense pressure. He had never felt something like it in his entire life and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes in his agony. He didn’t even think to call for his mother who was undoubtedly laying in waiting in the living room to check on him after an appropriate amount of time passed.

While the pain was immense, it lasted less than five minutes, and after is was gone, he felt exhausted. He let the tension in his body go, his limbs going slack as he sunk down into bed with a sigh, letting his eyes open and his hair go. His scalp was sore from the force he had been using, but in the moment, he had felt absolutely nothing but the pain in his head.

He fell asleep a few minutes later, laying spread eagle on top of the covers, and he stayed that way until his mom peeked in an hour later and pulled his covers out from underneath him, covering him gently and calling the doctor to make an appointment for the next day anyway.

The doctor had found nothing out of the ordinary, and he had to tell his mom that two or three times before she finally dropped the idea of him having a tumor and took Yugyeom home. After it seemed to hit his breaking point like it had yesterday, he felt completely fine and the almost daily headaches stopped.

In the amount of time it took for his mom to finally stop worrying about it, Yugyeom himself had begun to notice some changes that were enough to cause some worry.

Two weeks after the incident, he had been at school. He was copying the notes on the board diligently like he always did until someone tapped on his shoulder.

He looked back, his cheeks turning pink as he stared at the girl. She had been in his class all year and she had always sat right behind him. She had never really talked to him before, but she was really cute and he had definitely noticed her. So now that she wanted his attention, he couldn’t help but feel a little bashful.

“Could I borrow a pencil? My last one just ran out of lead.” she whispered. She gave her pencil a little shake for emphasis and Yugyeom nodded, working quickly to pull out his pencil case and unzip it, grabbing one and holding it out to her. 

She reached over delicately to take it from his hand, her fingers just barely brushing up against his palm. It wasn’t really anything. He wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the immediate burst of energy that shot up his arm. Starting exactly where her skin had touched his, his nerves were set ablaze. Every hair stood on end, and the feeling traveled up the whole way to his shoulder. He had never felt anything like it before, and he looked back at her to see if she felt it as well, but she had already turned to face the front again, copying the notes just like everyone else in the class. Everyone but Yugyeom.

“Kim Yugyeom? Do you have a problem?” 

Yugyeom looked away from the girl to his annoyed looking teacher, pulling his arm back against his body like he had been burned. He still had it extended and that’s obviously what had drawn his teachers attention. With everyone's attention now on him, he turned red once again, straightening his notebook and bowing his head to his teacher apologetically. 

“No, I’m sorry.” He said quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t have a problem.” He looked at his teacher only out of respect, wishing for nothing more than to be able to sink into the floor and escape the looks of all the other students inevitably judging him.

“Get back to work then.” The teacher said coldly. He had never really liked Yugyeom, and while Yugyeom wasn’t quite sure why, this definitely didn’t help.

Feeling defeated and mortified, he looked back down, scribbling his notes furiously to try and shut his mind up. He still couldn’t get the feeling out of his mind though. The indescribable energy he had experienced when touching her hand that he had never felt before.

As dumb as it sounded, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was true love. If that was the ‘spark’ you felt when you touched your soulmate. He took a quick peek at her again in his musings, unable to help himself, and she really was cute, but he didn’t know if she was soulmate material. He hadn’t even said two words to her and it felt more terrifying than anything. If that was love, he didn’t like it and he loved the idea of love too much to believe this is what it was.

It wasn’t a shock either. His older brother had dragged his socked feet across the carpet and shocked him purposefully too many times for him not to know what that felt like. It was a nuisance and a sign that his brother loved to torture him, but it was far from the feeling that had coursed through his arm a few moments ago.

He couldn’t think of a single thing that it was even similar to, and when the bell rang and he only had about half of the notes he needed, he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He was still utterly perplexed by the feeling and he knew that he had to try again. He had to get to the bottom of the peculiarity and the only way to do it was touch someone else and see.

When he arrived home that afternoon, he was scared. He was afraid to understand what this was because he didn’t have a good feeling about it, but the needed to get to the bottom of it anyway.

“Mom,” He called out as he entered the kitchen. She was sat at the table, peeling vegetables for their dinner and she didn’t even look up at him when he entered, but she did hum in acknowledgement so he knew she had heard him.

He looked at her for a moment, biting his lip. He considered asking her what she thought it was first. He didn’t know where to even begin though. Explaining it seemed like a chore especially when it was such an unusual thing and the last thing he wanted was to worry his mom and end the night with a trip to the hospital over something that was most likely nothing.

“Did you have a good day?” He asked, trying to sound nonchalant as he moved forward, draping himself over her back. No one in their family was surprised by his famous back hugs and he used it as the perfect excuse to touch her arms. She could still help even if she wasn’t exactly in the loop.

The skin on skin contact didn’t matter though. The hug brought him comfort like his mother's touch always inevitably did, but there was no strange sensation. No surge of energy or power or whatever the feeling was before and he pulled back with a confused frown on his face as his mother laughed.

“I had a good day, dear. The same as always. How was your day?” She didn’t look away from her task, but her voice told him she was a lot more invested in the discussion now so he had no chance of just slinking away to ponder his failure.

“I had a good day too. School is always the same though. Boring and tiring.” He meandered to the fridge to pull out a water bottle, chewing on his bottom lip, his mind racing as he tried to think of his next plan of attack. “I can’t wait for the weekend.”

“You say that every week.” He could see his mother’s eye roll in his mind just from the tone of her voice, and he took a long sip of water holding back an eyeroll of his own. “Do you have a lot of homework tonight?”

“A decent amount.” Yugyeom replied practically on instinct, moving to leave slowly, desperate to avoid the conversation. Partially because he needed to figure out his mystery and partially because he was tired of listening to the same lecture about his studies everytime school was mentioned near his mom at all.

“Make sure you get it all done.” She said simply. He nodded even though he knew she wasn’t looking and moved quickly towards his bedroom before she launched into the speech about his low motivation levels and how his grades would be much better if he would just dedicate a little more time to studying. 

If his grades were actually bad, he might have felt a little more motivated, but he was already doing the best that he could do. He was doing about just as well as his brother had done and her nagging only aggravated him at this point. He wasn’t perfect and he didn’t understand why she expected him to be. 

He felt inexplicably angry as he walked down the hall, taking a detour into his older brother’s room, flopping down on his bed, watching his brother on the floor, a controller in his hands and his eyes glued to the game on the screen. 

“What do you want?” His brother asked none too kindly, mumbling a curse under his breath as his character took some damage. 

“I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like being alone is all.” Yugyeom said, pouting even though it wasn’t really effective to pout when he wasn’t being looked at. “Mom tried getting on my case about the grade thing again and I really just needed a quick break before I actually start my homework.”

“She is never going to stop doing that. You need to stop being overly sensitive because she’s never going to stop nagging even if you bring your grades up. That’s just how she is.”

“I’m not overly sensitive,” Yugyeom whined, glaring at the back of his brother’s head. He never helped in situations like this, but he was the only other person who understood his mother’s insane behavior, so he didn’t really have a choice. “You just don’t get it because she gave up on giving you the same lectures because she realized it was futile to try and get anything through your thick skull.” He snapped.

“Did you come in here just to procrastinate by insulting me? If so, get out now because I’m in no mood for your dramatics today.” His voice was cold and Yugyeom stood up, scrunching his face in defiance. 

“Just touch my hand and i'll leave.” Yugyeom couldn’t be bothered to come up with an excuse and he definitely didn’t just hug his brother like he did his mother.

“No. What the hell, Yugyeom? Just get out of here and do your work.” 

“Do it!” Yugyeom reached out to tug on his arm, frustrated beyond belief. “Touch my hand, jerk!”

“Get away from me you weirdo! You’re messing me up!” He tried to turn his body away from Yugyeom but the younger boy was feeling persistent. He dropped to the floor unceremoniously, trying to pull his brothers arms until he could touch his hands, wondering if that was the stipulation. He had touched his mother's arm not her hand, and if he could just touch his brothers hand, then he would know for sure if the feeling was real or not and he could let it go. Of course, his brothers hands were wrapped around a controller though, and to get anywhere near him he had to practically fight his brother.

After getting elbowed in the ribs too many times to count, he finally yanked enough to get one of his brother’s hands and he pressed their palms together firmly, holding his brothers wrist with his free hand to keep him still for the duration of the experiment.

Once again, his efforts were fruitless. He was rewarded with nothing but the feeling of his brothers sweaty hands against his own and a smack on top of his head before his brother pried his hand away, screaming at him to get out.

He moved back to his own room sulkily, rubbing his ribs grouchily. He knew now that his earlier experience had been nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him. He supposed he should be relieved, yet he couldn’t shake the disappointment as he opened his algebra book flipping to the page where the assigned homework problems were. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Yugyeom was eighteen, the experience had been pushed to the back of his mind. He had all but forgotten it, and he moved on like nothing had ever happened. 

Of course, that wasn’t the last weird thing that had happened to him. It was just so far into the future that he would never realize the correlation.

He had managed to finally slip away and get to a party his friend was holding. His mother had only become more strict the older he had gotten rather than loosening the reins, and to go anywhere, he really had to jump through some hoops. He had only done things like this a handful of times, but this was definitely the most adventurous he had ever been. His friend criticized him for taking so long, but Yugyeom was just in awe that he had pulled it off. 

He was supposed to be at a friends house having a normal study session, yet he was sat in a circle on the ground of his friend’s house with the lights dimmed and music blaring. Drunken teenagers were littered around in clumps, dancing and kissing and right in the middle was a game of seven minutes in heaven.

It was very middle school, but no one seemed to care. Everyone was just looking to have a good time, and as stranger after stranger went into the closet coming out ruffled and out of breath, it was endlessly entertaining. Yugyeom didn’t dare drink anything, knowing he couldn’t afford to act strange when he went home, and his absence of liquid courage was exactly why he didn’t want to play. His experience was next to nothing and he didn’t want to disappoint some girl in the closest by being an aboslute amauter. 

It was also a tragically unromantic way to lose his first kiss. He wanted to tell his friend that as he dragged him over to the circle laughing, but that meant admitting he still hadn’t had his first kiss yet at the age of eighteen, and he couldn’t stomach that kind of embarrassment in a crowd like this. So he put his name in the hat and resigned himself to an awkward or potentially very awakening seven minutes, secretly hoping everyone would get tired of the game before his name got pulled.

After about 4 or 5 rounds though, his luck ran out. His name was called out first and then another name he had never heard before. He looked around wildly as he was chanted to his feet and went pale when another boy stood up. He recognized him almost immediately as the exchange student from China. He had become popular fairly quickly and more people probably knew him than knew Yugyeom even though he had lived here his entire life. 

For a moment, he had a little hope. They were both boys so maybe they would both be discarded and the next couple would go. No one seemed to even think about that though, just laughing loudly. The girl pulling them names ushered them to the closet, and without much of a choice, Yugyeom was shoved into the closet behind the boy and the door slammed behind them. 

He stood there awkwardly, staring down at his shoes, having no idea what he should do. He probably should at least attempt conversation, but in his mortification he could think of nothing. It wasn’t until the boy cleared his throat that he looked up.

He looked scared too. His cheeks were red, his dark bangs disheveled and covering one of his eyes almost completely. Yugyeom found himself staring without meaning to. It’s not as if he was mad that it was a boy. He didn’t really hate anyone if he was being honest. He had just never thought about being with a guy before. Not really.

Everyone had some gay thoughts occasionally. He had googled it once and the article he had read had seemed credible enough. You could have gay thoughts without being gay, so after one or two instances of some passing thoughts, he brushed them off as normal and never really thought about it again.

He wondered how the other boy felt about it. The way he was looking at Yugyeom's lips made him think he might not really care all that much either, but how could he really be sure. He found himself stepping forward before he could really figure out how he was supposed to find out, invading the other boys personal space with just one step in the insufferably small closet they were forced into. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” The boy said slowly, his accented Korean clumsy and stuttered. He was so close and Yugyeom swore he could feel how nervous he was in his own chest. 

“What if I do want to?” Yugyeom asked, speaking slowly to make it easier for him to understand. He didn’t know how he had gone from humiliated to this. All he did know was that the boys bottom lip looked plump and red and his eyes were such a pretty shape. He seemed just as pretty as any girl Yugyeom had seen in the dim light and maybe it was even a little romantic with the music of the party seeping in under the door muffled and heavy. 

“Then I won't stop you.” The boy tilted his head up, both of his eyes becoming visible as his hair slipped down the side of his face. Feeling what little self control he had left slip away, Yugyeom wrapped a protective arm around his waist, bringing their lips clumsily together. It was a little messy and a little rushed and he was still worried he was doing it wrong, even though he didn’t really know any other way he could kiss, but when the boy’s arms wrapped around his neck, his hands brushing the skin by the nape of his neck, he could no longer even think. There was a swell of emotion then more immense than he had ever felt of utter want, and he backed the boy against the wall, kissing him harder to make it all the more intense. 

He was so lost in the kiss he didn’t even hear the knock on the door warning them they only had a minute left in the closet, yet an overwhelming feeling of panic washed over him like a wave and he pulled back with a gasp to look at the boy. Seeing his expression, Yugyeom let go of him quickly, stepping back, the panic fading with the loss of contact.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the knock.” Yugyeom replied sheepishly. He couldn’t remember any physical signs that the boy had done to draw his attention, but he was positive there had to be something so he attributed his forgetfulness to the heat of the kiss. 

“It’s alright. I just wouldn’t want either of us to get in trouble.” The boy said much more confidently, fixing his own hair before stepping close again, standing on his tiptoes to adjust Yugyeom’s ruffled locks. He felt his cheeks heat up but he said nothing, just smiling as the other boy helped him.

 

“I guess this will just be our little secret.” He murmured, unable not to giggle as the other boy stepped back, his smile bright. 

“I guess so.” 

There was another quick knock before the door was suddenly thrust open, and immediately there was a chorus of boos. It was really only fun for everyone else if the couple got caught in the act. Yugyeom left the closet grinning with the boy practically at his side as they walked back to the circle, the crowd getting drawn in by the excitement of the announcement of the next couple.

“Hey,” He boy whispered as Yugyeom approached his spot on the edge. He saw his friend staring expectantly with wide eyes, obviously dying to hear what had happened, but Yugyeom stopped to hear what the other boy had to say anyway, never having the heart to be that rude.

“Yeah?”

“You never told me you spoke Mandarin. And you speak it so well too! If you would have mentioned it, I could have spared you my gross Korean.” He laughed cheerfully, but Yugyeom could only stare his mouth opening and then shutting again.

The boy had spoken in Mandarin now that he mentioned it. The differences between the two languages was unmistakable, yet just now had Yugyeom realized what they had both been speaking, and he couldn’t attribute that to the mind numbing kiss because he didn’t know how to speak Mandarin. That is, until a few moments ago apparently.

Yugyeom was too shaken to speak, and after staring awkwardly, the other boy frowned and walked back to his friends, allowing Yugyeom to sink down beside his friend who grabbed onto his arm and shaked it furiously.

“What happened in there? Did he try to kiss you? I thought your eyes were going to pop out of your skull when you saw who it was! Come on don’t hold out on me! What happened?” He rambled.

“Nothing.” Yugyeom lied, thinking way too hard to speak his own native tongue, the movement of his lips feeling forced and foreign. “Absolutely nothing.”

Yugyeom would be a lot more concerned about his apparent sexuality crisis if not for the fact that his new language capabilities seemed to be a much bigger problem. Something was definitely wrong with him and he knew it was definitely something he had to keep under wraps.

Yugyeom had never met a superhuman in person. At least, he didn’t think he had. Never one that was out about it. He lived in a safe community. He went to a small school and lived in a small town where it was supposedly a superhuman free zone. 

He learned about in school of course. Every school in Korea taught the basics of genetics since it was technically illegal not to. Yugyeom knew about the wide range of mutations, but he never dreamed he would see anything or anyone with powers until he moved out of town and to a larger city. 

He had remembered that some mutations didn’t occur until later in life. He had paid attention during that unit of biology because it was interesting albeit a little scary. He never once imagined it could happen to him though. His parents were both free of the gene and he never heard of his grandparents or relatives carrying it. He seemed perfectly safe, yet he had went to a party and kissed a boy and now he could speak Mandarin Chinese like he had known it his entire life.

Yugyeom didn’t know what kind of messed up power language-transfering kisses were, but he didn’t want them and he was trying to figure out how it could be anything other than the mutation. Google search after google search turned up with nothing though, and he felt his panic rise more and more. 

He didn’t want to be special. He didn’t want to have powers. It was fine to not care about what happened to superhumans when it didn’t affect him, but when he thought of the news stories of them getting hunted and killed, and about the gangs of them and all the organized crime, he could now add himself into the equation. He was different, and he didn’t think his power—if he could even call it that—could be considered dangerous, but then again, he didn't think that mattered.

He felt like he was in danger, but he didn’t know who he could go to for protection. His mom couldn’t take him to any doctor that could fix him. He was stuck like this and he was scared to worry her. She was already so stressed out. She worried about all of them, day in and day out, and Yugyeom knew it was mostly about him. 

How could he in good conscience unload this on her? How could he tell her what he was when he knew she would lose sleep over it just like he was? He had suddenly fallen on the wrong side of the line, and he he couldn’t cross back over, petrified of becoming a burden.

In his panic, he decided to just stay silent as he worked out what was going on. Keeping that big of a secret was a constant stresser, and once again, he started to get headaches. He became an irritable grouchy mess fueled by coffee and pain reliever tablets and it went on until it reached a breaking point just like it had five years prior.

The migraine was unlike anything he had ever experienced. The pain was so intense that opening his eyes pained him even in the darkness of his room, yet when he kept them shut, colors danced and exploded in his vision like fireworks. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to alleviate some of the symptoms as the pressure in his head seemed to just get worse and worse.

He laid there among his abandoned school books in the dark, biting his pillow to keep himself from screaming as he rode out the high of his agony.

As soon as it was over and he could think again, he wondered if it had to do with his powers. He couldn’t stay awake long enough to actually try and come to a conclusion about it as exhaustion gripped him in its vice almost immediately after.

The next morning, he woke up feeling groggy and out of it. His powers were the last thing on his mind as he got up to get some breakfast, his stomach controlling a majority of his mind, but his mission was derailed when he passed the mirror and caught a glimpse of himself.

His hair was grey. All of it. Every single strand was a grey color and his first thought was that his brother had come to spray dye it in the middle of the night as a prank. As this crossed his mind, his roots turned red, the color spreading until he was a complete redhead. 

He stared disbelievingly at it, his heart pounding.

To add to his pathetic list of powers, his new capability seemed to be human mood ring. 

He continued to look for a few more minutes, tugging on it, watching it turn into a dark burgundy as his anxiety grew. It was his real hair and he was stuck with it. He went to his closet to pull out a black beanie that could cover all of his hair, slipping it own with a forlorn expression, his hands trembling slightly.

As if he wasn’t having trouble keeping the secret before, another layer had been added to extend his suffering. He was going to have to tell someone soon or he knew it was all over. He wasn’t very good at being on his own, and if he tried to handle this himself, he just knew it would end up the worst possible way. 

So he tried to figure out how to tell his mom. 

How do you mention that you woke up with color changing hair and not send your overprotective mother into a panic? It seemed impossible, and as he got ready for school, he decided he couldn’t do it this morning. It was too abrupt and too early. He needed to plan something or do some research. He didn’t know for what or on what but he told himself that so he could put an unsteady smile on his face, the feeling of immediate anxiety over telling her right away dissipated.

When he passed the threshold, it was like his mother was waiting for him. She was glowering and staring and his heart dropped as he blanched. She had to know and she was mad about him not coming to her right away.

“Mom, I—“ he started, ignoring his brother’s smug grin he was trying to hide behind his coffee mug that was blatantly obvious. He didn't know how his life falling apart was funny, but his mom was more important to take care of. She interrupted before he had a chance to finish speaking though. 

“Kim Yugyeom, would you like to explain to me why you went to a party last week?” She snapped, more mad than he had seen her in a long time. 

“What?” He asked dumbly, his heart starting to race faster and for a completely different reason.

“When I was at the store yesterday I saw Dongwoo’s mother and she told me all about how you two went out and how you were not at home studying. Then I found out from your brother there was a party that night.” Yugyeom resisted the urge to throw his brother a look. There were college kids there, so it made sense he would have known, but he was such a jerk to rat him out. Yugyeom never ratted him out. Not that he really had to. His brother was allowed to go to parties. 

“Mom I just—“ he started, trying to diffuse the situation, breaking out into an uncomfortable cold sweat.

“I don’t want to hear it. I trusted you to spend time with a friend and you betrayed me! How am I supposed to let you go places when you lie to me about where you are going to go, and you have been avoiding me for the last week too.” She stood up and Yugyeom counted to ten, watching his traitorous father leave the table to go to work. It was way too early, but his mom was too worked up to notice. The perfect tactic to avoid her inevitable terrible mood after she finishes chewing Yugyeom’s ear off. 

“You never let me go anywhere anyway which is why I had to lie in the first place. I had to convince you to let me go to a friend’s house and that was an uphill battle and you really believed it was for studying.” He argued back, his anger getting the better of him, his cheeks turning red in indignation and he was sure his hair had grown red too under the protection of the hat.

The room was silent for a moment. He knew he never talked back, so this was a huge deal, but he was hoping it would make his mom see how trapped she had him.

“You are too young for parties!” She snapped, her face turning red in a similar fashion to his own. 

“I’m eighteen!” He cried out, scrubbing his hands across his face, his eyes burning. 

“Just because you are eighteen doesn’t mean you can go to parties and smoke and drink! You have been acting so weird ever since you got back and I just know—you’re on drugs aren’t you?” She burst into tears, staring at him with such sorrow and Yugyeom let his hands drop down from his face and his heart clenched. 

Being straightforward had obviously backfired and he regretted it. He hated to see her cry and he hated that it was his fault and he wanted her to stop he wanted her to stop crying and calm down so he could clarify that he was not on drugs and ease her fears. He stared right into her eyes, pleading with his mind like he often did for a lot of different things, and for the first time, he saw it work. He watched his mom’s tears slow and her face grow less red, and it was almost comical how fast she went from hysterical to put together.

Yugyeom's hair was standing on end again and he felt this pressure at the base of his skull. Just a small little nagging pressure like someone’s finger was there pressing lightly. He shuddered like he had gotten a chill and stared for a moment as she stared back, opening his mouth and then closing it.

“I just worry about you so much.” She said, her voice even as she wiped at her wet cheeks with her sleeve. “You’re my baby and I love you with all my heart.”

“I’m not on drugs.” His mouth felt like it was full of cotton as he spoke, unable to wrap his mind around what had just happened. What surely he had just done. “I promise I’m not. I didn’t do anything bad at the party I promise you.” He said softly. The thought that his mom might consider making out with a boy bad crossed his mind, but he still couldn’t find it in him to be worried about that yet. It was an issue to deal with much later when he had the emotional capacity to do so.

“You aren’t lying to me?” Her voice was suspicious, and Yugyeom figured the momentary wash of calm he had laid over her was fading, and it was almost like he could feel in the pin prick in his neck lessening more and more until it was completely gone.

“No, I promise you I am completely drug free.” He reassured, giving her a small smile, his mind racing. “I have just been getting the migraines a lot again so I haven’t been around as a much.” He wove some truth into the equation, going further into the kitchen so he could pull a granola bar from the cabinet. He had no time to eat a real breakfast after that and he was still hungry even with that emotional turmoil.

“Then what’s with that ugly hat?” His brother chimed in with a little laugh. Yugyeom had forgotten about him being in the room at all for a moment back there. “If you aren’t on drugs you have no excuse especially with it pulled down your head so far. It makes you look like an egg.” 

Yugyeom bristled, shaking his head defensively. 

“No it doesn’t. It looks fine.” He didn’t really like the way it looked either, yet he couldn’t have color changing hair and it was the only option he had. He couldn’t tell anyone that yet though, so he had to pretend like it was his prefered fashion choice even he was three times more self conscious about it now.

“Whatever you say.” His brother snorted. 

“Leave him alone.” His mom jumped back in, sitting down at the table. She sounded tired and both boys knew that was their cue to settle down. “You better get walking, Yugyeom. If you don’t leave soon, you might miss you bus.”

“Yes mom.” He said dutifully, sticking his tongue out at his brother sneakily before hurrying out, grabbing his backpack along the way, escaping to the freedom of the outdoors where he was able to think more clearly. He definitely had more problems than just one, but his mom's mood swing was definitely at the top of his list.

This was finally something. Something to work with. Magical kisses and color changing mood hair were relatively tame, but the ability to change the way one felt was useful. He was scared, but for once, a little excited by the developments. 

Things were growing out of control and he couldn’t be in it alone for much longer, but he had the entire school day and his preplanned procrastinatory research grew a new and more significant purpose. He had made his friends laugh uncontrollably. He purposefully didn’t hand in his homework just to pacify his angry teacher. He had a lot of fun and it wasn’t like anyone knew he was doing anything. People had mood swings all the time for no reason at all. There was no way he could be suspected of it, and by the time the day was done, he felt immense satisfaction.

He was scared it would be hard. To change the chemistry of someone's brain seemed complex, yet it was easy as breathing, the only change being the point in the back of his neck that ached more and more as he used it. The pressure became uncomfortable and then borderline painful the more he used his new ability, and by the time he arrived home, the feeling had not subsided even when he wasn’t using it, the entire back of his neck aching. 

He recognized that he may had overdone it as he rubbed at the back of his neck, wandering into the house, but there was still a smile on his face. 

He wandered back into the kitchen to grab a snack before he started on his homework, taking a moment to glance at his mom. She had paperwork scattered in front of her and Yugyeom wasn’t really sure what it was, but it seemed serious so he didn’t ask, trying to be quiet and not interrupt her when she seemed busy.

He moved quickly and quietly, desperately needing a yogurt drink, but before he got to the fridge, his mom spoke. “Honey, will you go and grab me the paper box in the closet please?” 

His eyes snapped to her, but she was still looking down at the papers. He scowled but moved reluctantly back towards the hall, knowing she wouldn't want to wait while he got his yogurt. 

He knew exactly what she was talking about at least. Every important paper they had to do with taxes and any other paperwork they kept all together in a decorative box that his mom bought at the craft store. They kept it in the hall closet on the shelf and Yugyeom hurried so he could get back to his yogurt sooner, throwing open the door and flipping on the light, stepping in. 

It smelled like mothballs and he scrunched up his nose in disgust as he pushed his way through the puffy old coats. Even with being the tallest person in the house, the box was still slightly out of his reach, so he did have to stand on his tiptoes when he got there. He craned his neck to see so he wouldn't accidentally knock anything else down in the process, gasping when a muscle in his neck seemed to spasm.

He immediately reached out to touch it, the box clattering to the floor and the papers scattering. The pain was immense, all spreading from that point at the very back, and suddenly, using his powers so much didn't seem like such a joke anymore. 

He slumped down to his knees, pressing all over his neck with his hands, trying to get rid of the pain and whether it was helping or not, it subsided and he could relax, letting out a low sigh.

He left his head hang for a moment, wiping the tears that had involuntarily gathered in the corners of his eyes before straightening out and sighing, looking at all the important papers he had scattered all over the floor. 

Carefully, he began to pick them up and place them in the box. He knew he couldn't put them in any order, but he at least had to find all of them, so he worked methodically, hoping his mom wasn't waiting too anxiously for his return and yell at him for taking too long since he was sure to get in trouble for spilling all the most important papers. 

He wasn't really paying attention to what he was touching, more focused on getting them in the box quickly and neatly, but the name of the local hospital printed in the corner of one caught his eye. He was technically not supposed to read the papers. The house’s finances were none of his or his brother’s business as they had always been told, but a bill or something from the hospital had to be an exception. Neither he not his brother had been to the hospital in a long time, and Yugyeom chuckled as he thought about it, wondering what time from their childhood it could be. 

He was certified as the most clumsy person in the house, and it wasn't like his brother was much better, and everyone knew it had to be true because their mom kept them so sheltered they had to be exceptionally skilled to hurt themselves the way they did.

Yugyeom had broken his arm twice: once from treating the back of the couch like a tightrope, and again from crashing his scooter into a curb. No amount of padding could save him then.

He was really hoping it was when his brother had gotten staples in his head though. He had been tipping the kitchen chair back over and over again after their mom had told him several times to stop, and lost his balance, cracking open his head on the kitchen floor.

At the time, it had bled a lot and Yugyeom had cried because it was scary and he thought he was going to die. After he found out he was going to be fine though, Yugyeom had found it hilarious and teased him mercilessly. It had lost its appeal after a while, but with this sheet it would be brought back again for sure.

When he started reading the paper, neither him nor his brother’s name was on it. His mother's name was there, and Yugyeom's eyebrows furrowed and he read further. His mother had not been to the hospital since he had been alive that he could remember, but it seemed that it was before he was born.

He felt a little sick to his stomach when he realized it was related to her miscarriage. She had never really talked to him about it. His brother had just mentioned it when he was younger, and Yugyeom had never asked his mom because that was a touchy subject he didn't want to bring up that would bring horrible memories and feelings along with it. 

He knew he should put it back in the box. He knew he shouldn't read it, yet his eyes kept wandering further down the paper, taking the words in. 

Mutation gene positive.

Anticipated delivery date.

Scheduled to be aborted on.

The paper stated to shake along with Yugyeom’s hands, his eyes wide.

His mom had not had a miscarriage. She had taken the test to check for the mutated gene in her child while pregnant and aborted his sibling who did.

He sat the paper down carefully beside him before leaning forward, searching desperately through the papers, still shaking all over. Another paper from the hospital from the year his brother was born. Gene negative.

He kept looking then, finding another one. The last one. The year he was born was printed at the top, another blaring gene negative staring at him.

Why had his mom done it? Did anyone know? Did his dad know? His chest burned with anxiety as he dropped it, picking back up the first paper staring forlornly as if the medical jargon could somehow tell him what his mother’s motives had been all those years ago. 

He jumped when the door suddenly opened, his head whipping back painfully to see his mom standing there, looking annoyed and furious. 

“What have you done?” she cried, looking at all of the spilled papers before she focused on the one in his hands, her eyes narrowing? her voice becoming dangerous “Yugyeom, you know you aren't allowed to read these.”

“What is this?” He asked, shaking the paper, his voice cracking. “Mom, what happened?” He wanted to believe she had done it because it unsafe for the baby to be born. He wanted to be believe she felt bad, but she did it for the baby because in that time, she didn't have the resources to ensure they could keep the baby safe.

When she snatched the paper from his hand though, he felt her hatred plain as day. Just from the small brush of their hands he felt it filling his chest. It made him feel sick to his stomach and his neck flare with pain.

“That's none of your business. Now get out of here.” she commanded. He could have mistaken the shake in her voice as sadness, but he knew that she was just angry and full of hate and he felt like he couldn't pick himself up off the floor, his legs numb.

“Do you really feel that way? Do you hate superhumans that much?” He asked again, not listening to his mom, reaching out to grab her hand and not letting go of it, ignoring the immense pain in his neck and her attempt to shake him off, gripping onto her hand to feel it again because he knew the emotions he felt before were not his own. One more extension of his powers.

“Yugyeom, I did what I had to do to have a good family. To keep danger away from all of us.” She said it as if she was being sweet, as if she was doing them a favor, but the feelings of disgust and hatred flowing through her fingertips couldn't lie like the words coming out of her mouth.

He dropped her hand and grabbed onto a coat hanging on the wall, pulling himself to his feet and swaying, feeling very dizzy.

“Yugyeom? What's wrong? Yugyeom?” his mom sounded concerned but Yugyeom didn't know if it was real or not. Now he didn't know if anything his mom said was real, and he ignored her as he stumbled towards his room, the world spinning around him, his neck pulsing, the point burning as if it was on fire.

His mom was following behind him, but he shut the door when he got to his room, harshly locking it which was very against the rules before crashing down on his bed, closing his eyes falling asleep to the sound of his mom insistently knocking on his door calling out to him to open up.

He felt too sick to stay awake, completely drained from using his powers to the limit.

He didn't wake up until around 3 in the morning to a silent and dark house. He still felt a bit sick, but his neck finally felt as if it was back to normal. 

He laid still and stared at the ceiling, pulling the dumb hat off of his head, throwing it across the room and rubbing his eyes before sitting up and looking in the mirror. His hair was back to a dull dark grey color. It was like an ominous storm cloud and he fluffed it pitifully before getting up and going to his closest to pack.

He couldn't tell him mom and he understood that now. He couldn't have her hate him. If his mom ever felt the way he had felt when she touched him about him, he wouldn't be able to take it. He loved her so much despite all her nagging and obsessive qualities, and he didn't want to experience the darkness in her heart for himself.

His only choice was to leave and he knew that. He couldn't stay here and tear everything apart. His mom would still be devastated, but at least she wouldn't hate him if he left like this.

He wanted to just do it out of a sense of duty. He didn't want to get emotional about it because he had no choice, yet when he dumped his school supplies out of his backpack onto his bed to pack his clothes in he started to cry anyway.

No more friends. No more school. No more college. Home cooked meals were gone and so was his bed. He was all on his own, sticking out like a sore thumb, and he sobbed as he shoved his clothes into the bag before going to his side table to pull out all the money had had saved. It wasn’t much, but it was something to get him started and he packed it securely along with some odds and ends before pulling on the biggest hoodie he had, flipping up the hood, crawling out of his window while still crying.

He didn't stop for some time, sniffing as he walked down the dark street only lit up by street lamps, deciding to head towards Busan. It was so big there with so many people, and he was sure to blend in. It was safer to blend in like that and there were bound to be other superhumans there. Someone who would know the right thing to do. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~  
He wasn't expecting his life to be easy after he left. He never had a grand idea of being homeless and on the run, yet he couldn't have imagined how hard it would actually be. 

His money ran through his fingers like sand, his back ached from sleeping on the chairs in the train station and he smelled. Really bad.

It had only been two days.

He didn't know who to talk to. He needed to ask around about superhumans, yet that posed a serious threat that he hadn't thought about seriously until it was too late, and he was lost and stuck in a foreign place with the police most certainly looking for him.

He was panicky and scared and trying not to look like a criminal with his hood up all the time, but he still felt like he was getting suspicious looks everywhere he went. 

He had decided to move on to another city trying to get as much distance as he could from home with the money he had left, so despite all his continually growing problems with no clear solution, he was standing on the platform waiting.

It wasn't like he was a stranger to public transit. He took the bus all the time back home, but the trains of the big cities were a lot different and he didn't even realize he was standing a little too close until the train barreled down the tracks with a squeal, the wind whipping his hood off his head.

He knew it was kind of ridiculous. He knew that he should just step back but it reminded him of a romantic comedy and he laughed, getting caught in a flurry of people flooding off the train, not even thinking about what he was exposing. 

He just stood enjoying himself for the first time since he left in the ocean of people barely paying attention. Unsurprisingly, someone ran right into him, almost knocking him over. He gasped, looking at them, panicking, scared they would be mean but he was met with the sight of a boy who couldn't be much older than he was. His skin was tanned, his hair styled, and his lips plumped. He looked like a model and Yugyeom stood in awe for a moment before the guy moved, grabbing Yugyeom's hood and ripping it harshly over his head, grabbing his hand and yanking him back away from the train he was supposed to be getting on.

A sensation tingled over his arm, strong and clear and gooseflesh erupted across his skin. That feeling he felt all that time ago after the first headaches. 

He had enough decency to panic but he didn't pull away, getting dragged out into the street down an alley. His arm felt like it was on fire, his breathing heavy and when the other boy finally stopped and let go, he held it to his chest like he had been wounded, looking at him critically and wondering what exactly his goal was.

“What's going on?” He asked, trying to sound brave when he was shaking. He stared, expecting an answer but the boy stared blankly back before starting to speak in a completely different language rapidly and passionately. He seemed angry and Yugyeom tried not to cower, his eyebrows furrowed in utter helpless confusion. 

The guy seemed to have asked a question, and when Yugyeom just stood, feeling on the verge of crying, he switched to English which Yugyeom really wasn't very good at either and especially in stressful situations like this, so he got none of what he was talking about. He felt sick and the guy seemed to get more and more panicked switching from English to whatever else he was speaking, his cheeks turning pink in the low light presumably from frustration.

Yugyeom wracked his brain trying to think of what he should do and suddenly it hit him. His powers.

In a moment of desperation, he reached out to grab the boys face, pulling him closer, ignoring his squeal of indignation, crashing their lips together. He was flooded with feelings of anger and surprise, the back of his neck tinglingly until he let go and stepped back.

“What the hell?” the boy snapped, finally starting to make sense to Yugyeom which relieved him despite his anger.

“I'm sorry. I did it to understand you.” Yugyeom said a bit sheepishly, the new language rolling off his tongue easily. He had definitely exposed himself now, but he couldn't help it. 

“You're so careless.” the boy said, his face red, running his hands through his hair. “You have to be crazy! Do you want to get killed?”

Yugyeom shook his head, ashamed, playing with the hem of his hoodie nervously. 

“No, I didn't mean to be careless.” Yugyeom murmured. “It's just my first time being all alone. I wasn't thinking.” he knew his hair must have changed in the short time it was out. He was guessing that the other boy was superhuman too, or at least a sympathizer, so he could relax a bit.

“Where are you trying to go anyway?” The boy asked, his voice a little softer. He could probably tell Yugyeom was a mess because it was pretty obvious and felt bad.

“I don't know. I just couldn't stay at home and I have been trying to find something… I just don't know where to look.”

“Do you have money?” the boy asked suddenly.

“Not much.” Yugyeom said, mentally groaning afterwards, revealing something as important as that to a stranger. 

“You can come with me then. I'm on my way to Seoul.”

“Seoul?” 

“There is an organization there. One for superhumans. It's safe and they fight for what's right.” The boy looked serious, his eyes shining, and Yugyeom really did want to trust him even if he did just meet him. He was stupid and he knew it, but this guy had a plan and had already saved his ass once. He was out here just like him on his own.

Just in case, he reached out to touch his arm. It's not like he hadn't already humiliated himself a thousand times already, so he saw no harm in checking to see if he could detect any negative potentially danger emotions.

Bambam seemed nothing but determined though, his heart blazing with something Yugyeom couldn’t put his finger on, never having experienced whatever it was before.

“I'll go with you.” Yugyeom said finally. “I want to help.”

“Good, we just need to take care of one thing first.” The boy said, grabbing Yugyeom's wrist, pulling him back towards the street. Yugyeom's cheeks turned pink again and he wanted to tell the boy he didn't need to be dragged around the city like a child. Yet the words wouldn't fall from his lips.

“What kind of powers do you have, anyway?” the boy asked, weaving back into the crowd towards who knows where. “You confuse me.”

“Well um I guess it's all about emotions… so I'm an empath? Maybe?” Yugyeom said, a bit unsure, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“How do you not know?” the boy asked, making a sharp turn down a street. Yugyeom was taller, but the boys legs were long and he walked fast. It was a bit of a struggle to keep up and he was starting to think the hand around his wrist was indeed necessary.

“Well, I just found out about them,” Yugyeom said, shrugging sheepishly when the boy turned his head to look at him incredulously.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” Yugyeom said softly, sighing when he let go and pushed open a door, leading them both into a small corner drug store.

“How long ago is just?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he led Yugyeom down the aisles briskly, seemingly to be looking very intently for something. 

“Um…last week.”

“Oh my God.” the boy spoke in English as he face palmed, and it was definitely English Yugyeom understood. He laughed a bit nervously, shrugging again.

“I think I’ve figured out all that I can do though.” He said quickly, wanting to be something other than disappointing to the other boy for once. “I can read someone's emotions if I touch them and I can manipulate their emotions as long as I can make eye contact with them and um… I think if I touch someone with the mutated gene I can sense it?” he thought back to earlier and the rush he felt when he touched the other boy. It wasn't an emotion and he was pretty sure it had to be the power of the gene.

“Interesting.” the boy mumbled, stopping finally in front of the hair dye, his eyes scanning over the boxes. “What about your hair?”

Yugyeom pouted a bit as he looked at the dye, annoyed at himself for not thinking of it forever ago before he snapped into reality looking at the boy again. “it just tells my mood to my knowledge.” 

The boy nodded, carefully selecting a box off the shelf. Yugyeom hadn’t even gotten a good chance to see what color it was before Bambam shoved it in the front pocket of his hoodie and grabbed his wrist again, walking with him to the back of the store, slipping into the bathroom, and locking the door behind them. 

“I could have paid for this.” Yugyeom hissed, a bit uneasy as he pulled the box out his, eyebrows raising at the canary yellow color Bambam had chosen. “Yellow?”

“You could have, but you shouldn't. If you can get away with it, take something for free and save your money for things you have to pay for later.” he took the box from Yugyeom's hands, carefully pulling it open and setting two bottles on the sink, pulling on the supplied gloves like a doctor would, a small smile turned up at the corners of his mouth. It was the most laid back Yugyeom had ever seen him. “And yellow because it's the color I first saw you with. It looked nice on you. It made your eyes more piercing.”

Yugyeom listened and watched as Bambam mixed what he had to, shaking the little plastic bottle in a fury. “Then when you saw me it turned pink. What does that mean?” he looked genuinely curious and Yugyeom shrugged a bit nervously.

“I'm not exactly sure. I haven't had time to pay much attention to which emotion they correlate to.” He couldn't really remember what he felt when be first saw Bambam, but pink just sounded embarrassing, so he left his answer at that, letting the boy flip his hair back, his hair a peachy color in the light. 

“What's this one mean?” the boy asked, reaching out to touch it, fingering the strands gingerly. “What are you feeling right now?” his eyes flicked down to meet Yugyeom's and Yugyeom gulped loudly.

“Embarrassed. Maybe a bit nervous.” He admitted, watching as the boy chuckled, starting to squirt the liquid in his hair, massaging it quickly and efficiently like he had done this before. 

“There is no need to be embarrassed. You’re alright, you know that? You may not know what's going on, but you're alright.” he laughed again and Yugyeom smiled, ignoring the way the bleach tingled with its minimal contact on his scalp.

“Thank you.” he said softly. 

“Anyway, what's your name?” he asked softly, his hands working away at Yugyeom’s hair.

“Kim Yugyeom.” he replied quickly, his lips feeling weird again as he moved through the syllables.

“I'm Bambam.” the boy said, speaking Korean to him. Yugyeom stiffened, surprised, but just listened, and he continued to talk in a language he has probably never spoken before without even knowing it. “I come from Thailand. That's what you can speak now in case you didn't know that.” 

He seemed to be feeling a lot more comfortable now, and Yugyeom felt bad that he was probably about to be thrown for a loop again. It was a really weird feeling to be speaking another language you didn't learn and Yugyeom would know.

“I didn't. I had no idea.” he said truthfully, continuing in Korean watching the realization dawn on Bambam’s face. 

“You didn't tell me I could speak Korean now!” he accused, pointing a gloved and bleach covered finger at Yugyeom, making him laugh despite himself, covering his mouth with his hand as he giggled.

“I didn't know, I swear. I guess the transfer goes both ways,” Yugyeom said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Can you speak mandarin too now?” he asked, speaking his now third language slowly, watching Bambam’s eyes widen in amazement. 

“This is cheating.” the Mandarin rolled perfectly off Bambam’s tongue, a pout on his plump lips. “It took me forever to learn English and you can just snatch a language up in a couple seconds. You dumb freaking cheater.”

“It's not my fault.” Yugyeom cried out, still laughing, understanding from his tone that he was joking. He found it wasn't that hard to read Bambam even without touching him, and he didn't regret his decision to trust him, continuing their conversation, switching back and forth effortlessly while Bambam turned his head yellow.

When they were done, they left giggling, Yugyeom's hair damp and hidden under his hood with the box left in the trash, heading out to find a train towards Seoul together. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re never going to make it.” Yugyeom said doubtfully, staring at the train schedule with a frown on his lips. “We might as well spend our energy trying to figure out where we want to stay for the night.”

“No offense, Yugyeom.” Bambam said, aggravated, rubbing his temples like an old man. “But you don’t have enough money to rent a place anywhere decent in this city. It’s a useless money pit. Our best option is to try and make it. I’m so sick of this city.”

Yugyeom sighed, really not wanting to pick a fight. He was scared to make Bambam angry with him, so he just nodded, getting ready to run like an idiot when there was really no chance of getting where they needed to go. 

“Are you two looking for somewhere to stay for cheap?” 

Yugyeom’s face snapped to the side to see a greasy looking man standing right at the entrance of the nearest alley. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, his eyes narrowed at them. Yugyeom got a very bad feeling about him and if his hair wasn’t dyed, he was sure it would reflect that.

“We don’t need anywhere thank you. What we really need to do is get out of here.” Bambam spoke even though the guys eyes were focused on Yugyeom, his gaze unwavering.

“Really? Because I couldn’t help but overhear you and I really think I know a good place for you both.” The man insisted, stepping out of the shadows. A scar as thin as a line made by a pencil ran from his ear to the corner of his mouth like his cheek had been sliced, and Yugyeom took a step closer towards Bambam nervously, his heart starting to pound.

“Look, I told you we aren’t interested, so get out of here.” Bambam said, his tone dripping with malice. 

“There just so happens to be a little ring around here for people like you two.” He let the cigarette drop and dragged his boot across it rather aggressively to put it out. It was a cheap and rather cheesy method of intimidation, but it worked, and Yugyeom was glad Bambam was handling this because he felt utterly lost. “You can make a lot of money and it’s free. You get a place to sleep and fed three times a day. What more could you want?” He laughed loudly, the sound sending shivers down Yugyeom’s spine.

“Pretty boys like you two won’t make it out here you know? I have seen it before, and it’s always the same. I can’t tell you how many boys like you two that I have saved though. It’s really pretty admirable the work I do.” His tongue flickered out past his lips like a snake; the nervous habit seemed more predatory than anything. 

“Let’s go.” Bambam gritted out, grabbing Yugyeom’s hand and pulling him back. Yugyeom was more than thankful to be broken from his trance, ready to sprint as far away from the creep as he could.

“I wouldn’t if I were you two.” The man stayed calm, his thin lips curling up into an eerie grin, the corner of his scar moving along with them. “Wouldn’t it be such a shame if the police were called and given the description of two potentially dangerous superhumans in the area? Yellow hair really isn’t all that subtle and you’ll both be swarmed before you have a chance to do anything.” 

Yugyeom could tell he was serious. It was all rehearsed, planned for who knows how long and to know they were superhuman when they had been so careful must have meant they were being watched.  
Yugyeom’s hands started to tremble, and he looked at Bambam who had an unreadable expression on his face, getting more and more terrified by the minute.

Bambam’s silence seemed to say that he didn’t have any other ideas either and Yugyeom could just feel their dreams slipping through their fingers. Just when Yugyeom was feeling on the verge of tears, a new voice called out, and his eyes snapped over to a young boy. He reminded Yugyeom of himself, their hair both styled in the same bowl coconut-esque shape. He was a lot more fierce than Yugyeom could ever be though, running up to the man when he wasn’t even involved. 

He felt Bambam tighten his grip on his wrist, tugging to try and get him to move. It was a good time to make a break for it, but Yugyeom couldn’t rip his eyes away from the boy. He seemed to be struggling and Yugyeom couldn’t leave him when he was defending them in the first place. He still couldn’t get his feet to even move though, so he just stood, his heart beating impossibly faster when it seemed that the boy had actually taken control. He seemed so much smaller than the man, yet he moved so fluidly. It almost seemed impossible and Yugyeom knew this wasn’t just a normal guy. It couldn’t be. 

He watched in horror as the man pulled out his gun, his breath catching in his throat as he backed up. How could anyone help him now? Bambam tugged more insistently, whispering something that Yugyeom didn’t quite catch but Yugyeom only stared, every hair on his body standing on end when the boy met his eyes.

He let out a piercing scream, then, when he heard the gun fire, but the boy didn’t drop like he expected or like he should’ve. He moved on, dodging another bullet that should not have been escapable, retaking the upper hand and bringing the man to the ground, pounding on his skull like it was nothing, making Yugyeom wince.

“Yugyeom,” Bambam’s voice nagged again. Yugyeom merely freed his arm from his vice grip though, his feet moving of their own accord towards the boy, reaching down for his hand to help him up, breathless as if he had been the one fighting.

“Are you okay?” He asked, immediately desperate to know, eyeing up the blood on his face from his nose and cheek where the second bullet had grazed him. As soon as he touched him, his arm was sent with the shockwave of power and he smiled, glad his suspicions had been right. He was like them.

“Yeah, I think so,” His voice was deep and smooth and Yugyeom winced along with him when he rubbed at his possibly broken nose. “Are you guys alright?”

“We are fine now, thanks to you.” Yugyeom answered a little too quickly, turning red under his gaze. He had never seen someone so effortlessly cool and his heart had not yet ceased to stop pounding. “Your powers are really amazing! So subtle but really useful.” He added, unable to stop himself. 

Yugyeom bit his lip, perplexed by his reaction, not noticing that Bambam had approached, standing behind his shoulder, watching them both carefully. “It’s one of my powers to be able to tell.” Yugyeom explained. “The way you move it’s just so unnatural… you never should have been able to dodge either of those bullets the way you did and honestly maybe it’s not even the way you move-” 

He was cut off from his rambling when Bambam chimed in, his voice cold the way it had been when he and Yugyeom had first met. “It’s the way they moved around you.” he supplied, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “If you didn’t even know you had powers, why would you step in like that? Are you stupid?” He snapped.

Yugyeom looked at him bewildered, feeling ashamed on his behalf. He was being so rude to someone they owed their lives to and his suspicion made no sense to him.

He couldn’t stay focused on being mad for long though when the boy started to talk again, focusing on him and him alone.

“I— I don’t know why. I saw that creep harassing you, and I just…I couldn't just stand and watch, y’know? I couldn’t just keep walking, knowing he could have some horrible intentions. Plus, I get myself into a lot of trouble all the time,” he paused for a moment, seeming almost sheepish before continuing. “Anyways, what are you guys doing out here so late? And what did that guy want?”

He sounded so utterly heroic and Yugyeom jumped in quickly before Bambam could get a word in edgewise, not wanting him to say anything else rude. “We were trying to get on the last train to Seoul tonight, but we definitely missed it because of that jerk. He wanted us to join some ring of some sort.”

“Fighting.” Bambam supplied again, still not relaxing. “They take superhumans underground and fight them like dogs.” 

Yugyeom looked at him a bit surprised before looking back at the new boy, his eyes still wide. “You really saved us then. All we want to do is make it to that big organization in Seoul. Apparently it’s safe there for people like us.” 

“People like you?” he asked, cocking his head slightly. “So you mean…you’re superhuman?” He couldn’t contain the awe in his voice as he began to ramble, “That’s…so cool! It must be so cool to have powers and be able to do crazy, unbelievable things! I’ve always wanted to meet someone superhuman, I have so many questions. I’m Jeongguk, by the way.” he extended his bloody hand to shake Yugyeom's before realizing and switching it. He seemed so frazzled from the knowledge and Yugyeom felt flustered as well, chuckling as he shook his hand.

“I’m Yugyeom, and this is Bambam.” He didn’t even look back at the other boy, keeping his eyes on Jeongguk, smiling warmly, letting go of his hand when he realized he had been holding it a little too long, his cheeks turning pink. He hadn’t noticed until he felt the other boy’s excitement like it was coursing through his veins. “And yes we are. I’m an empath and Bambam can grow and shrink.” Bambam gave a hum of agreement in response and Yugyeom was happy it wasn’t nothing. 

“What’s you power then?” Bambam asked before Yugyeom could start again, surprising him a bit. “It has to be something. Yugyeom is new to all this, but I trust him. He’s pretty easy to read if you haven’t noticed.” He sounded almost bitter, and his blatant resentment was still really rubbing Yugyeom the wrong way. He was curious as to what Jeongguk’s power was though. 

“I…don’t have powers,”. He shrugged seemingly sad as he continued “I dunno what you mean, you keep mentioning powers, and I dunno, I…” Jeongguk trailed off, staring down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. “I’m human. My parents are both human. They’ve never mentioned—“ He stopped abruptly seeming to lose himself in thought before he suddenly spoke again, sounding almost desperate “Am I superhuman?”

“I felt it there.” Yugyeom confirmed, seeing how serious this was to him. Bambam had told him he had known about his powers since he was young, so he couldn’t possibly know what something like this felt like. Yugyeom did though. He didn’t have to touch him to understand the feeling of everything you knew feeling like a lie. “When I helped you up, I could sense it just like I could when Bambam touched me for the first time. Whatever it is, you have some kind of power. I’m sure of it.”

“Power…”.Yugyeom watched him curiously, his heart aching for him again at how lost he truly seemed to be with all of this. “But you don’t know what?” 

“I can’t tell what it is. I’m sorry.” Yugyeom said, genuinely apologetic. “I could try and help you narrow it down though.” He wanted to be any help that he could be after everything he had done for them, and it was obvious to him that Jeongguk did need help with this.

“Yugyeom, we need to get out of here. We don’t have time for this. The longer we stay away from Seoul, the more danger we put ourselves in.” Bambam interrupted again. The anger in his voice finally pushing Yugyeom over the edge.

“Without him, we would be dead.” He snapped, his lips pressed firmly together in an angry line. “He saved our lives and he deserves something in return. I’m not leaving him until I figure out what his powers are.” His eyes blazed as he looked at Bambam to communicate how utterly serious he was. He was more of a follower than a leader and that was always how it had been. He had no trouble letting Bambam guide him before, but he felt passionate about this, and he wasn’t going to sit down and leave the boy who had had just risked his life for them when he was in need. 

“It’s probably no safer to travel so late at night,” he stated, looking at the ground. “You guys can stay with me until morning, if you want,” he offered, biting his lip. “I have…Well, it’s not exactly a nice place, but there’s a roof and four walls, for now, and it should be inconspicuous enough that we’ll be safe. Especially since he,” he gestured behind him at the greasy man still unconscious on the pavement, “probably won’t stay like that for long.”

“That would be amazing.” Yugyeom said, some of the anger dissipating as he turned to looked back at Jeongguk, not waiting for Bambam’s input because he didn’t care. They missed the train so their only other option was a waiting room chair and whatever the other boy had must be better than that. “We would really appreciate that.”

“Okay, It’s not too far, just follow me,” Yugyeom started following him as soon as he started to move, sighing when he realized Bambam had not started following him. The slightly older boy was standing in the same spot, looking the other way, pouting like a child and Yugyeom couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to grab his wrist, reversing the roles giving him a gentle tug. 

“Come on. This will be good for us. Just trust me.” He spoke in Thai; his initial anger was gone now and he just wanted to settle for the night. He was tired and stressed and he really believed this would be the best for both of them. He could see Bam’s reluctance and he knew that his companion was a lot more street smart than he was, but he couldn’t see any evil in the new boy and they both needed a safe place to make a plan. “Lets go.” 

Bambam sighed, but started to move along with him. Yugyeom smiled, keeping the grip on his wrist as he turned back to meet Jeongguk’s eyes, hurrying to catch up with him, not wanting to hold this up any longer.

He followed him through the streets with more pep in his step than he had since he had left home, and even though the place ended up being underwhelming he was still excited. It was dirty and very unstable, but it was somewhere away from prying eyes and Yugyeom was endlessly grateful to the boy. 

“Don’t mind the dust,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “The lower floor is safe, but I wouldn’t recommend venturing upstairs.”

“Understood,” Yugyeom said, looking around curiously, taking in everything he could. “Do you actually live here? How did you even find a place like this?” he questioned curiously.

“It used to be the source of some local ghost stories,” Jeongguk explained as he followed them inside, carefully returning the board to its spot in front of the door frame. “I had to spend the night in here in middle school on a dare, and when I found it—surprisingly—not haunted, I kinda started…hanging out here when I wanted to escape home. When my mom threw out all my stuff from my room at home, I was glad to have a place to keep it.”

Yugyeom listened curiously, not really looking back at Jeongguk until he spoke again. 

“I come here a lot now, but no matter how much I clean, I just can’t keep the dust from accumulating so much.” Yugyeom watched him grab a bag, but he thought nothing of it, assuming he was just tidying since he seemed pretty embarrassed of the state the place was in. “I understand if not, though.”

“Don't worry so much.” Yugyeom said with a little laugh, brushing off the couch, laughing at the dust as it rose into the air, sitting down carefully. “This is a lot nicer than where I have been sleeping lately. Where we both have.” he looked to Bambam who moved carefully around the room before sitting on the arm of the couch closest to Yugyeom 

“I don't know.” Bambam murmured. “I think the station might be cleaner than this.” he said it in Thai obviously to blind side the other boy and Yugyeom had to fight off a laugh because he really wasn't that funny.

“Hey! That's not fair, I can’t understand a word you’re saying, but you seem to understand me.” Jeongguk complained as he sat across from them. His dramatics set Yugyeom over the edge and he couldn’t help but laugh that time, shaking his head. 

“It’s Thai. Bambam is from Thailand.”

“You can use it too if you want. I bet Yugyeom will give in if you ask nicely.” Bambam teased, making Yugyeom’s cheeks turn pink. The prospect of kissing Jeongguk seemed crazy, and now that he would inevitably have to explain it, he was embarrassed. 

“You make it sound so creepy when you say it like that.” He whined, turning even more red when he looked back at Jeongguk, unable to stop thinking about it now.

“What…are you talking about?” he asked with a scoff and a shrug. “‘Give in’? ‘Creepy’? What is that s’posed to mean? I can’t speak Thai…how would I be able to use it?”

Bambam leaned closer to the boy from where he was sitting with a smirk on his face, looking more comfortable than he had all night. Apparently torturing Yugyeom had overridden his suspicion, and Yugyeom pouted as he explained for him.

“One of Yugyeom’s other powers relates to language. Anyone he kisses can speak any language he can and vice versa. He couldn’t understand me when we met so he literally just laid one on me out of nowhere. At least you have a choice.” Yugyeom smacked his leg, still pouting as Bambam just laughed more. 

“Oh,” a blush burned on his cheeks. “Th— That’s…a really cool power,” he stuttered, his voice decreasing in volume the more he spoke. “I— I d— dunno about…It’d be p— practical, right?” he fumbled over his tongue, laughing nervously.

Yugyeom stared blankly, never expecting the other boy to agree. “It would make things easier. You would always be in the loop then.” He wished he could touch the boy then to find out what he really felt about it because Yugyeom was definitely a lot more affected by this than he would like to admit, not even noticing Bambam’s sudden silence. “If you really are okay with it, I don’t mind.”

His sexuality crisis was beyond the point of a crisis at this point, but he was still just ignoring it, his gaze flitting from Jeongguk’s eyes to his lips and then back up. 

“I…am.” Jeongguk finally answered after a long silence. Yugyeom stayed staring for a moment, observing his face. He seemed to be nervous too, and just like that, he was transported back to the time in the closet. The nerves and the butterflies. Jeongguk was different than the other boy though. He was courageous and selfless and much more handsome than the other boy had been, despite the fact he still had crusted blood under his nose and on his cheek which Yugyeom would have to remind him to wipe off later. Now he didn’t dare ruin the moment, standing up, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes.

“It doesn't have to be a long kiss or anything.” He clarified, waiting for the other boy to get closer, having to remind himself not to hold his breath. “It’s no big deal.” He murmured not very convincingly. 

“Okay,” The other boy replied, rising as well and approaching. Yugyeom nodded then to reassure them both, clenching his fists so he wouldn’t do anything embarrassing with his hands while they did it. taking one last look into Jeongguk’s eyes to make sure he was okay before he pressed their lips together, his eyes closed.

It was nothing spectacular. His lips stayed closed and barely moved and it was short as promised, but when he pulled back and opened his eyes, his stomach was churning violently.

“Did it work?” He asked in Thai, his voice barely there, his mind racing as he tried to stay outwardly composed. 

“Yeah, I think so I—“ he started, but trailed off seeming as dazed as Yugyeom felt, but his perfect Thai proved that it had in fact worked.

“There we go. Now we’re on equal footing.” Bambam jumped in, drawing Yugyeom’s attention back to him. “Now we really need to figure out where we are going from here, Yugyeom. We have already wasted enough time tonight.” 

“You said you’re heading to Seoul, right?” Jeongguk asked. “You could stay the night here and catch the first train tomorrow. I…can find you some extra clothes, if you want them.”

“That’s okay.” Yugyeom said, letting his backpack slip down his shoulder which he patted. He just hadn't had anywhere to change, but he had continued to lug it around even with Bambam’s nagging of it not being needed. “But Jeongguk…” He trailed off, licking his lips before speaking again. “If you want to, you could come with us. If you really are superhuman, it will probably be safer.” He said it out of concern, but he knew he was being selfish too, his little crush undeniable at this point. Jeongguk was just like something out of a novel he would read. Brave and reckless, but handsome with a soft side. Yugyeom didn’t want to part with him and it was embarrassing, but he offered anyway. 

“Yeah, um…if I’m not too much of a burden, I’ll tag along! I can pay for my own ticket and everything,” he declared, beaming. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, I mean…I can’t exactly go home,” he mumbled the last part, his expression falling.

Yugyeom could see himself in him then. The pain of being torn from you family. He didn’t know what happened, but he knew he wouldn’t want to talk about his own experiences, so he didn’t question it, just assuring him that him coming along would be no problem, elbowing Bambam until he agreed, determined to make them a functioning little unit.

Really, it didn’t take as long as he expected. Traveling with people was an excellent way to get to know them quickly, and while there was always some unspoken tension between Jeongguk and Bambam, his new friends eventually warmed up as Bambam started to become less and less guarded. He proved that he could he funny and bubbly and very childish at times, and Yugyeom was happy that Jeongguk could see him that way. He wasn’t bad even if he was intimidating, and he knew he had his own share of secrets as well that had never been touched upon, so they all deserved a little slack.

By the time their journey had come to a close and they arrived safe and sound in the city, Yugyeom felt like they were really all good friends and he was super excited to make it to a place where they could finally relax.

Bambam knew where they needed to go. He had apparently done a lot of research before he even reached Korea, being a master of eavesdropping when he could practically become an actual fly on the wall. Their plan was set, and all they had to do was take the final steps. It all seemed so simple and Yugyeom couldn’t understand how it had all fallen apart so quickly.

It had started out of excitement and Yugyeom knew that. Jeongguk was a passionate person and still practically a child just like they all were, but even Yugyeom’s stomach twisted at his words shortly after they had arrived.

“This is so cool! I’ve always wanted to visit Seoul, and…meeting superhumans! Awesome! Being superhuman…I almost can’t believe it.” he exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted to be superhuman. You get to live a cool, easy life with badass powers to help you…”

He babbled on happily and normally, Yugyeom could feed off his positivity without even touching him, but the atmosphere had become heavy and violent, Bambam stopping in his tracks beside him, looking at Jeongguk with a dangerous look in his eyes that Yugyeom had never seen before. 

“I wouldn’t wish this mutation on my worst enemy.” Bambam hissed, his voice low. “If you think having this curse is anything but pure torture, you have it backwards. The opportunity to lead a happy and easy life dies the moment you develop with the gene inside of you.” Bambam’s voice was completely serious, the anger unmistakable and Yugyeom stayed silent, a little frightened by his demeanor change.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone still lighthearted. “Everyone talks about how incredible it would be to be superhuman and have powers. How is this a curse? Superhumans live just like humans do, but like…better.”

“Better? Living in fear every second is better? Being systematically destroyed is better? Whatever you think isn’t the reality of this world. All over the world, superhumans are being slaughtered. Children and adults alike are being picked off one by one, sent to weird institutions to be pumped with experimental drugs, or into the slums and underground to be thrown into cages, forced to fight to live another day with other superhumans who are just trying to get along as well.” Bambam heaved in a breath and Yugyeom noticed how shaky it was. He watched his friend’s hands tremble with emotion, and he looked back to Jeongguk in disbelief. 

“I can grow to be the size of the buildings that surround us. I can step on you and crush you like you were nothing more than an insect, but I was powerless to stop the government from blowing every single person I have ever loved off this godforsaken earth for being like me or supporting me.” Bambam continued, his voice never even wavering as he glared at the other boy. Yugyeom felt his chest ache, not even being able to imagine the pain. He wanted to reach out to Bambam, but he was scared to feel his agony welling up in his own chest.

Not a single night had he been able to escape dreams of his mother. Her face haunted him as a memory of the not so distant past, and he wished this never would have surfaced or he could still be at home by her side and his father’s, ignorant to the hatred and pain his birth and mutation would cause.

“But…they say those are all just urban legends,” Jeongguk’s voice was quiet, he was practically flinching away from Bambam. “I— I didn’t know, all I’ve ever been taught was that…superhumans are rare, but they live just like us. Or, well…humans,” he mumbled, refusing to meet Bambam’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Yugyeom felt some remorse. Bambam had been harsh and Jeongguk couldn’t help what he had been taught, yet how could he criticize Bambam when he had just revealed what had really happened to him back in Thailand? So he continued to stay silent, looking down at his shoes, just wishing they could keep moving.

“Urban legends.” Bambam mumbled, rubbing his eyes like he had come out of a trance, deflating like a balloon with a sigh. “Let’s just get moving. Getting in might take a while and I want a bed to sleep in tonight.” Bambam sounded so hollow when he spoke, and Yugyeom looked back at Jeongguk, waiting for him to open his eyes so they could meet his. He wanted him to know that he had forgiven him. That he didn’t know any better and that now it was all going to be okay.

Jeongguk never met his eyes though, seeming to just spiral further and further into himself. His mistake and Bambam's reaction gripping his conscience and not letting him go. 

“I—“ he began, voice catching in his throat. “I’m too unfamiliar with the world of superhumans. I…You guys go, I’d just be a— a poser in your midst. I— I’m sorry,” he practically threw himself forward in a bow, then turned on his heel. Yugyeom knew he was going to run. 

He acted on instinct then, lunging forward to grab his hand before he could bolt. Everything was happening so fast and he felt overwhelmed once again, but he couldn't let his friend leave so easily. Not a friend whom he admired so much. Not one he thought he could love.

The pressure began immediately in his neck like it always did, and he bit his his lip at the influx of emotion. Jeongguk’s guilt and his shame came first ,making Yugyeom’s stomach turn, but after came a wave of loneliness. It pierced through the boy’s heart like a knife and he gasped, gripping his hand tighter. 

“Please don’t go! You don’t have to be so lonely anymore. We will be here for you… I'll be here for you.” he pleaded, not wanting him to suffer that suffocating emptiness filling both of their chests.

 

“Yugyeom,” he murmured, “I can’t…” He shook his head, turning away. “I don’t belong here. I don’t belong back in Busan. I don’t belong amongst superhumans, amongst humans, or anything in between. I d— I don’t belong anywhere,” He was visibly on the verge of tears and Yugyeom wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he belonged with them, but before he had a chance, Jeongguk was gone, taking off running down the street. 

He wanted to follow him, and he went to, needing him to understand that this was all wrong, but Bambam grabbed his arm to stop him, keeping him in place. 

“Yugyeom, it's not worth it.” He said softly, leagues away from the tone he had just a few minutes earlier. 

“How can you stay that?” Yugyeom said, tears welling up in his own eyes as he fought against Bambam’s grip fruitlessly. “He doesn’t know what he is doing! He shouldn't be alone here. He can't be!” He really broke down then, the tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

He let Bambam pull him into a tight hug, sobbing against his shoulder. It was all too much. All of this was just too hard. Being away from home was terrifying. Being in a world that hated him made him feel so scared all the time and his helplessness just made it worse.

“He has to figure it out on his own, Gyeom.” the nickname surprised yet comforted him at the same time. “He's lost and irrational. He doesn’t know what he is or what he wants, and when he figures it out. He'll come back.” he murmured.

No bare skin was touching, yet Yugyeom could still feel Bambam’s fondness. He could still feel the safety his arms provided, and when he had cried himself out, he let Bambam take him by the arm and lead him towards paradise. 

He was scared for Jeongguk, but there was nothing more he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well  
> The schedule thing almost worked until it didn't. I'm so sorry about the long wait, but maybe the length makes up for my lateness.   
> Things also really start to pick up here and some BTS interactions were finally madeeeee and we have learned that Yugyeom has a crush on everyone he meets. Who would have known.   
> Yugbam or Yugkook?   
> Which one do you guys like best?
> 
> Don't forget to comment down below and tell me what you think because I love reading all you guys thoughtful comments.
> 
> ALSO do not forget that his chapter from Kookie's point of view is written on Orangenseok's account here! Definetly check it out if yout interested along with all her other chapters :)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473043/chapters/41148854

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who gives this a read. My friend and I have put a lot of heart and soul into it and we appreciate every read and comment.
> 
> Just to be clear this is only GOT7s story and BTSs side will be posted on Orangenseoks account. Not that there won't be the occasional crossover ;) 
> 
> Thank you again <3
> 
> Link to BTS version:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473043/chapters/41148854


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